The Robot and the Old Crank
by GerdavR
Summary: Lieutenant Hank Anderson is tired and miserable. One day he had to ask Bob why he had put him in the android crimes division all by himself. On second thought … there was no need to ask. The city was broke, and nobody gave a damn about androids. He took another gulp. And nobody gave a damn about him either. (Slightly AU take on DBH with a grumpy cop and an eager android)
1. The Bar

Hank exhaled as he felt the heavy raindrops falling on his head, he waited for a moment before he opened his umbrella. His eyes burned from staring into the computer screen, perhaps he should've used the eye drops Jean had brought him years ago. Either that or he should get glasses like Bob Fowler … but Bob looked like a dork with them to be honest.

Behind him uniformed police officers went in and out of the precinct. From the corner of his eye he saw two android cops standing guard in front of the entrance.

He scoffed and started to walk toward Jimmy' Bar. It felt good to see the puddles on the sidewalk, smell the earthly odour of the rain and that strange tartly taste that lingered in the city every time it poured. This is how real life smelled, not like the dry air in the precinct, with the lingering smell of cleansing agent on every surface. So clean, so immaculate.

Finally he reached the bar and entered. Hank tossed the umbrella carelessly into a corner. Of fucking course Dereck Myer was already sitting at the counter. He couldn't sit through another story of Dereck's wife – not today.

He patted Dereck on his back. "Hey buddy."

The burly man smiled. "Hey Hank!"

Hank went to the back of the bar and sat down close the TV. Not his favourite spot but in safe distance from Dereck. Jim, bless him, understood perfectly. As always. Without saying a word he put two glasses of whiskey in front of Hank.

He downed the first one in one gulp. The warm burning feeling his in throat made him relax a little. He looked at the TV, the Detroit Gears were on a losing streak again. God, he missed the times when there was a real basketball team in Detroit. When they played real defence … not this score first nonsense.

Hank watched the game for a while, slowly drinking his way through two more glasses of whiskey. Just when he started to feel dizzy and comfortable his thoughts returned to his last case. A woman had accused her android of pushing her elderly mother down the stairs. Fucking waste of time – after five minutes Hank had known that she had done it herself to inherit her mother coin collection. Fucking people.

As if he hadn't already enough cases. Hank scoffed. One day he had to ask Bob why he had put him in the android crimes division all by himself. On second thought … there was no need to ask. The city was broke, and nobody gave a damn about androids. He took another gulp. And nobody gave a damn about him either.

And if that wasn't bad enough he was basically forced to watch one bad pass after another – damn this Colliers! He was a point guard – he was supposed to distribute the damn ball! That was his job! He groaned as he noticed that the Gears were already 20 points behind.

"You cost a couple of millionssss, you jerk. The least you could do is being a … sssolid point guard," Hank muttered under his breath.

The door to the bar opened and a gust of cold wind hit Hank's back. He shuddered a little and took another gulp. He noticed from the corner of his eye that Jim crossed his arms. Dereck mumbled something Hank couldn't quite hear. Whatever.

Suddenly somebody stood right next to Hank. He felt a pleasant light-headedness and tried to ignore them.

"Lieutenant Anderson, my name is Connor," said a slightly raspy male voice.

The first thing Hank noticed when he glanced at the intruder was the blue triangular android sign on their chest. He turned his attention again to the game sighed. He had hoped Bob Fowler had changed his mind … but of course he hadn't. And now this machine is bothering him in his favourite bar.

When Hank didn't answer Connor continued: "I'm the android sent by Cyberlife. I looked for you at the station but nobody knew where you were. They said you were probably having a drink nearby. I was lucky to find you at the fifth bar."

It wasn't going away; he might as well get it over with. With a low grunt Hank turned on his stool to face Connor. The android was wearing standard android uniform with a black tie and a white shirt. Its height was quite average, so was his slender frame. Hank also registered the youthful face, why on earth had they designed this prototype like a college kid?"

Hank stared it in the face and took another sip of this whiskey. "What you want?"

"You were assigned a case early this evening. A homicide, involving a Cyberlife android. In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators."

Assistance, huh? And this stupid condescending ass thinks that it has to walk me through stuff that already has been decided by Fowler? As if he didn't already know!

"Well, I don't need any assistance. Especially not from a plastic asshole like you. So just be a good lil' robot and get the fuck outta here."

Connor's LED-light turned from blue to yellow and then again blue. Hank frowned. Even after all the cases he had worked he hadn't seen this one before.

In a friendly tone it continued: "I understand that some people are not comfortable in the presence of androids but I am-"

"I am perfectly comfortable … Now back off, before I crush you like an empty beer can!" snapped Hank. Stupid condescending asshole! Hank gulped the whiskey down and banged the glass on the counter. "Do you have any idea how long I've been working today? My shift has ended hours ago!"

Connor leaned a little closer. "Listen, I think you should stop drinking and come with me. It'll make life easier for both of us."

The stupid robot was right of course. Hank knew that he was angry and tired … and drunk. If he had any gumption he would've handed Fowler his badge and his gun the moment he had told him that he was going to get an android to help him with the cases. He might as well surrender. Just as he was about to say something, Connor spoke up:

"I'm aware that are overworked and tired. But it's essential in a homicide case to arrive at the scene of the crime as fast as possible." It paused. "You know what? I'll buy you one for the road. What do you say? Bartender, the same again, please!"

Connor put a couple of bills on the counter; they looked of course freshly printed.

Hank jerked his head around, staring at Connor in utter disbelieve. Then he turned back and nodded at Jim.

"Fucking wonders of technology," he mumbled, watching Jim pouring out another whiskey. He gulped it down and got up.

Hank walked out of the bar. Outside he inhaled the fresh air and felt like his head clear up a little bit. He heard the android stepping out behind him. "Bring me up to speed."

"The victim is a Todd Williams. According to his neighbour he was shot by his AX400 android."

Hank begun to walk towards the precinct. "Alright."

"According to his file Williams' ex-wife had a restraining order issued against him. He used to work in Detroit Steel until it shut down eight years. According to his tax records he didn't have a steady income in the last couple of years." Connor quickened its step until it walked next to Hank, straightening its tie. "He was caught in a drug raid last year, but no charges were filed."

Hank scoffed. "Probably some small-time dealer."

"What makes you say that?"

"Experience. I bet he never registered for welfare." Hank coughed and spit out.

"You're right," said Connor slowly, "there is no social services record."

Hank stopped and turned to face Connor. "Wait a moment. How did you verify this so quickly?"

Connor's lips twitched, Hank wasn't sure if that was an attempt of a smile. "I'm connected to the police servers, Lieutenant."

"Huh, wonders of technology indeed." Hank turned and continued his way.

When they finally arrived at Hanks car it had started to rain again, Hank remembered that he had forgotten his umbrella at the bar and cursed under his breath. He searched his pockets for the keys when Connor stepped close to him.

Hank took a step back. "Never heard of personal space, you asshole?"

Connor just looked at him with its stupid big brown eyes and said: "This is not a self-driving vehicle. You alcohol level is too high to operate it safely. I suggest that I drive, Lieutenant."

Hank narrowed his eyes. "Can you even drive stick?"

"I can operate a great number of vehicles – including old-timers with stick gear." There was again this strange twitch in its face.

It bothered him to hand over his keys, but unfortunately the annoying robot was right. Whatever. He was tired anyway. He threw his keys towards Connor, it caught them in mid-air. "Thank you."

It unlocked the door and sat down. Hank went to the other side of the car and had to brush empty beer cans and fast-food wrappers from the passenger seat before he could sit down. Huh, it seemed that it had been a while since there was somebody else beside him in this car.

Connor started the car and backed out of the parking space, Hank ran his hand through his hair and stared out of the window. When was the last time somebody had driven with him? It must've been Gavin … back when they were still partners. So about two years ago.

The noise of beer cans clanking against each other ended his train of thought. Hank looked into the back, the floor was also littered with junk. He could almost hear Jean's pissed off voice complaining. The memory made him uneasy. He glanced again at Connor.

It was a strange sight. This pristine looking college boy in this old tatty seat behind the wheel of an ancient Buick. There was a strange feeling in Hanks gut. He was suddenly keenly aware of the smell the old rancid fat from the fast-food wrappers, the sour-ish stale smell of beer.

Hank pressed his lips together and opened the window, cold wind and raindrops hit his face but at least he could breathe again.


	2. The Body

The rain had stopped when they arrived in the outskirts of Detroit. Connor parked the car right in front of the small house and got out before Hank could say anything.

He quickly got out to and said loudly: "Connor! You wait here!"

Connor turned to face it and frowned. "My instructions are to accompany you to the crime scene, Lieutenant."

"Instructions, huh? Whose instructions?"

"Cyberlife and the Detroit Police-"

"I don't care – they aren't the lead detective in this case. I am." Hank turned on his heel and left, passing by the android cop guarding the perimeter by flashing his badge.

"Androids are not permitted beyond this point," he could hear it say behind his back.

Hank pinched his nose. What the …

"I have instructions to follow Lieutenant Anderson," said Connor.

Hank sighed. "It's with me."

At the front door of the house was Kowalski, checking something on his tablet. Damn, Hank could remember him being a young and fit. He was now sporting grey hair and a beer gut. Kowalski looked briefly up.

"Hey Hank, you got yourself an android now? Signs and wonders man …"

"It was Fowler's idea," growled Hank.

Kowalski just smirked. "Well, I'll walk you through it. Todd Williams, laid off by Detroit Steel-"

Hank waved his hand dismissively. "No need for that, just show me his stash of Red Ice."

Kowalski's eyebrow rose. "You're a psychic now?"

"No, but I am a cop. And I still have a working brain … most of the time," Hank said.

Kowalski grimaced. "If you say so." He pulled a pack of chewing gums out of this trouser pocket and handed it to Hank.

Damn it, he hadn't thought that Kowalski would smell the alcohol on his breath. To his surprise Hank was still embarrassed, he had thought that he was long past that. He grabbed the gums and shoved one in his mouth.

They went into the house, Hank was surprised to find it in good order. "Huh, and here I thought that this was a typical den of an addict."

"Well," said Kowalski, "he got himself a household android after all. One would think he would buy a WR400 or something like that. But it gets even weirder … you'll see once you have been upstairs."

Hank just grunted.

"Body is upstairs, knock yourself out." With a shrug Kowalski went back out again.

Hank climbed the stairs, a CSI photographer was still taking pictures. The flashlight led him into the first room on the left.

The copper-y sweet smell of blood greeted him as soon as he stepped into the bed room. The body lay in a pool of blood; it was obvious that he had been shot twice in point blank range. Hank let his gaze wander over the body – Williams had beard stubbles, he looked unwashed and unkempt. There were old stains on his jeans. Such a clean house and yet he looked scruffy.

The photographer had finished and left. Now only Hank and Connor were left. Hank crossed his arms and took in the scene, Kowalski had been right. Something was weird about it, something more than just unclean clothes … but he couldn't put the finger on it.

Connor stepped forward and cowered down in front of the body, he could see the LED on its temple turning yellow and then blue again. Hank watched it with a frown how the android reached out and touched the pool of blood with the tip of his index finger. What the- he couldn't finish the thought when he saw that Connor licked the blood off his finger.

Hank grabbed it by the shoulder and yelled: "Stop it!"

Connor looked over its shoulder, something like a surprised look on its face. "What is it, Lieutenant?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Connor got up and straightened its tie. "I can analyse liquids with the sensors in my mouth. I apologize, Lieutenant. It wasn't my intention to startle you. I assumed you were aware of my capabilities."

Hank ran his hand through his hair and exhaled. Had Fowler mentioned this? Had it been in the briefing? "Just- just warn me the next time, okay?"

"Of course, Lieutenant."

"And don't say 'Lieutenant' in every sentence. It's annoying."

"Understood." Connor stood in front of him, watching him with its brown eyes like it was expecting something from him. Waiting for him to continue.

"Something interesting in his blood?"

Connor nodded. "There were very high levels of Red Ice in his blood. He must've smoked it right before his death. There were also traces of Benzodiazepines and alcohol."

"Huh, look at that. Why would a Red Ice junkie take benzos to calm down? This is atypical. They usually like to be on the red road …"

"I also reconstructed the crime, it appears that the shooter was about 4'5 and stood or kneeled approximately where I'm standing now. The gunshots indicate that the victim was turning around to face the shooter."

Hank stepped next to Connor and scanned the floor, there was nothing that could've caused Williams to stare into this particular corner of the room. Hank could feel a headache coming on, he massaged his temple. He sight fell on William's baggy jeans, they had slightly slid down, revealing white underwear. The belt was missing.

Hank knelt down and peeked under the bed on the left side of the body. He put on latex gloves and reached out and pulled a belt from under the bed.

"Will you look at that …", mumbled Hank.

Connor tilted its head a little. "I'm looking at the belt, I don't detect anything special."

Hank scoffed. "Of course you wouldn't. There is nothing special about the belt itself. But it's interesting where I found it."

"Judging from the trajectory the victim was holding it in his right hand when he turned to face his attacker."

He checked the belt, but Hank didn't find any traces of blood. A memory resurfaced, his father's face twisted in rage, holding his dark brown belt in his fist.

He felt a lump in his throat. "Does Williams have children?"

"Yes, according to his file his ex-wife filed a restraining order five years ago on grounds of domestic abuse. She argued with the child's well-being."

Hank gritted his teeth.

"She lives in Jacksonville with her daughter, according to the electronical attendance list of the daughter's school she was in class today," continued Connor.

"Thank god."

"I suggest we have a look in the other rooms, Lieutenant."

"Alright."

Hank checked the living room and the kitchen. There was nothing suspicious. The only remarkable thing was how clean everything was – except for a small glass bong with red residue in it. He grimaced and opened the door to the backyard. Despite the darkness he could see laundry fluttering in the wind; it seemed that the android didn't have time to pick it up from the clothesline.

Strange. It was November … why would the android put up laundry outside? Just when he was about to muse further on the subject he heard steps behind him.

"I found something interesting upstairs," said Connor.

"Lead the way."

They climbed the stairs again and headed to the last door, Hank cursed under his breath when he entered the room: bright drawings were pinned on the wall, a small bed was standing in front of a window, crayons and toys lay on the floor.

"I thought you said that the ex had a restraining order?" asked Hand sharply. "Looks to me that his daughter was here recently!"

"She has and I don't think that this is her room. I checked the room, there are no human hairs present. Not even on the pillow. But I found traces of Thirium 310-"

"Blue blood? Where?"

"It evaporates after a few hours, but it leaves a residue that can be tracked with the proper sensors. I found two sets of Thirium, one from the AX400 and the other from an YK500."

Hank looked around in the room, slowly he turned to face Connor. "YK500 … it's one of this child androids, isn't it?" Of course he already knew the answer. Fucking hell.

"Yes."

Hank sighed. He needed a drink. "So we're looking for two androids." He wiped across his face. "Shit."

"They don't have a car, and the only way to reach the city is by bus. There is a station nearby – we have to question witnesses-"

"It's 2 a.m.! I'm going to sleep."

Connor tilted his head, his LED shortly blinking yellow before returning to blue. "Of course, Lieutenant. I apologize. I'll drive you home."

At first he wanted to object, but in the end he just nodded. He was tired and drunk; it would be idiotic to refuse.

-0-

When Connor pulled up in front of Hank's garage it was pouring. He turned up the collar of his coat and quickly sped to the front door – only to realise that he didn't have his keys. Just when he was about to turn around and yell he realised that Connor was next to him, handing him his keys. Damn it was fast … Hank glanced at Connor. He was getting soaked, his hair was already wet.

He pressed his lips together and fiddled with the lock until he finally hit the key hole. He quickly stepped inside and turned to wait for Connor to come in.

But Connor didn't move. It still stood in the rain, its lips twitching. "Good night, Lieutenant."

Yes of course, it wasn't a human. There was no point in inviting him into his house. It probably had to return to recharge anyway or something like that. "Night."

Hank closed the door, locked it and pulled his shoes from his feet before throwing his coat over the backrest of a kitchen chair. A look in the fridge reminded him why he had planned to going to the grocery store. He grabbed a beer and cracked it open while searching the cupboard until he had found a can with ravioli.

He dumped the ravioli into bowl and shoved it into the microwave. As soon as the humming began he could hear panting and the sound of paws on linoleum. Poor Sumo – he was supposed to get his food hours ago.

"You hungry?"

The large Saint Bernhard dog barked.

"I know, I know." He pulled a bag with dog food from one of the cupboards and poured dry food into Sumo's bowl.

"And don't give me that look – you can't always eat wet food. The doctor said so."

The microwave beeped and Hank pulled out the bowl – the plate was hot but the ravioli were cold. Hank yawned and started to eat anyway.


	3. The Child

The shrill peeping of his smartphone came too soon. Hank groaned and put the phone on snooze. He could hear the rain battering on the roof. After a few minutes it beeped again, this time to indicate that the battery was low. Crap. He had forgotten to plug it in.

With a low grunt he sat up and ran his hand through his hair. He got up slowly and shuffled into the bathroom. He quickly checked the post-it's on the mirror – shit, Jean's birthday had been yesterday. He should write her a text at least.

He stepped into the bathtub and turned the shower up. As he washed himself, his thoughts returned to the case.

It seemed that the AX400 shot Williams and fled with the- with the child android. A child android. Of all the things they had invented to make a buck … this this had to be the lowest. Hank stepped out of the shower and dried himself with a coarse towel.

Connor had been right of course, the most sensible thing was to check the stations at the bus line. He had to admit, it had been efficient to have an android. And that was the problem, wasn't it? Soon the androids would replace all working people. Fucking robots.

He returned into his room and dressed. The smartphone was on the verge of going out, he plugged it in and grabbed the dog leash from the dresser. Sumo was of course already waiting for him, wagging his tail.

Hank quickly put on his shoes and his coat and took a spare umbrella. After checking the thermometer he grabbed a woollen hat and a pair of gloves.

He opened the door and stepped outside, stilling putting on the gloves. When he lifted his head he stopped dead in this tracks.

Next to his car stood Connor, it seemed to stare into blank space. A fraction of a second later he blinked and took a step towards Hank.

"Morning, Lieutenant."

It was still pouring, it seemed that every fibre in Connors clothes were soaking wet.

"The fuck … how long have you been standing here?"

"Seven hours and 37 minutes."

Sumo approached Connor and sniffed his shoes.

"What? No seconds?"

"I observed that humans tend to ridicule too precise information. If you wish I can add the seconds."

Damn, it sounded so eager, so sincere. For a moment Hank regretted to have asked. Sumo lost interest and started to sniff the tires of the car.

"Ehrm … why didn't you go, I don't know – to some android station?"

Connor adjusted his tie, it looked mechanical and strange considering that he was completely wet. "I didn't require repairs. And since I don't have any other assignments than working with you I decided to wait for you."

Hank chewed on his lip, staring at Connor. He felt uneasy. The thought that Connor had stood here all night felt wrong. It was just a machine but it still felt wrong.

"Are you going on a walk with your dog?" Connor asked. "Then I'll wait for your return."

"Yeah, he needs exercise." He cleared his throat. "I won't be long. Wait in the house, will you? I don't want my car seats get soaked because of you."

"Of course, Lieutenant."

Hank threw the keys to Connor, it caught them in mid-air with one fluent motion. There was nothing awkward or hesitant about it. Only cold an efficient precision. Hank bit his lips. He had been a fool to think that it deserved consideration.

Without any further word he turned and started to walk towards the small park a few hundred yards away.

-0-

When he returned he stood for a few seconds in front of his house, searching out of habit for his keys before cursing under his breath and pushing the door open. Connor sat at the kitchen table, getting up as soon as he saw Hank.

Sumo went straight to his sleeping spot and lay down. Hank threw the leash on the dresser next to the door and put the umbrella down. He went to the coffee machine and made a cup – it had been freezing outside. A few minutes ago the rain had turned into snow. As he waited for the coffee to pour into his cup he glanced at Connor.

The same odd feeling he had in his car resurfaced: The android looked out of place in the small kitchen. A prim and proper college student in a dump, covered by old pizza boxes and beer cans. He shouldn't have let it into the house.

He grabbed the cup and took a gulp, the bitter taste was exactly what he needed. For a moment he thought about adding a little something to help him getting started. The bourbon was on the counter behind Connor. It had been a long time since somebody had been here … Jean had occasionally stopped by, even after the divorce. But after a while she stopped visiting him.

Technically there still wasn't somebody with him, not really. Just a stupid robot. But he felt oddly reluctant to drink alcohol in front of Connor at 10 a.m. He gulped down the rest of the coffee.

"Let's head to last station of that bus," he said.

"Wouldn't it be more logical to start at the nearest by the William's house?" asked Connor.

"Nah, I bet they wanted to get as far away as possible." Hank grabbed his now fully charged smartphone. "And there is also a half-way decent diner."

Hank made a come hitherto-gesture and to his surprise Connor got it and threw him the keys in a similar fashion Hank had thrown them. Was it imitating him? Hank pushed the thought back and they exited the house.

-0-

To say that the neighbourhood at the last bus station was run down would've been an understatement. It seemed like the whole block consisted only of closed-down stores and abandoned houses. The rain and now turned into a full-blown snow fall.

There was a very cheap motel and a small 24/7 supermarket, apart from the diner there wasn't much else there.

Connor scanned the area, his LED turning from yellow to blue and back again. So perhaps the yellow indicated that it was processing something?

"Found something?" asked Hank as he rubbed his hands together.

"No, there are no traces of Thirium – but it's possible that they were washed away," small clouds of breath escaped Connor's mouth.

Hank frowned. He hadn't known that androids were warm. Does it mean that they could feel coolness and warmth? Considering that Connor only wore a thin jacket he decided that it was only a means to pass as human – another Cyberlife trick.

Hank headed over to the small supermarket, in his experience they usually had video surveillance. The bored clerk, a middle-aged man with a spotty shirt barely reacted when Hank showed him his badge.

"Yeah?"

"We need to watch the last twelve hours of your security tape."

He handed Hank a tablet. "Knock yourself out."

"I guess you can check it fast than me," said Hank and handed it to Connor.

"Yes, it will only take a moment." His right hand turned into white pastic – his skin just melted away. Hank gulped. The LED turned yellow for a second. "I downloaded to footage. They were here at 4:23 a.m. – asking for shelter. The clerk that was here directed them to the motel."

Hank frowned. "Why would anybody direct two androids to a motel?"

"The LED of the YK500 was removed. He possibly thought she was a real child. We could question the clerk-"

"There is no need, we have everything we need from the tape. Good work."

Connor handed the tablet back to the man and they left for the motel. The snowfall had gotten heavier.

"Do you want me to call for back-up, Lieutenant? The AX400 could be armed."

"Let' first have a look. If we call for back-up now and they've already left we've wasted time and money of the PD. You should hear how Fowler bitches about overtime at the end of the month."

Connor remained silent for a moment, probably downloading the PDs budget.

"The mayor has cut social spending and police funds in the last years, this is illogical," said Connor.

Hank scoffed. "Why do you think they let you join me in the first place? Androids are much cheaper than real police officers. They hope they can shave of another million if they can finally lay off guys like me."

"I see. That explains why you hate androids."

Hank took a sharp turn and stepped in front of Connor. "What did you say?"

Connor blinked. "I said that this statement explains-"

"Who the hell do you think you are? Who told you that I hated androids?"

"Before I found you at Jimmy's Bar I waited at your desk at the station. There were anti-android sticker and post-it's on the pin wall next to your desk. And you called me a 'plastic asshole'." Connor took a step back. "And of course you wrote a formal complaint to Captain Fowler regarding me – objecting to have a 'tool as a partner instead a real person'."

Hank clenched his fist. "What do you expect? That I-"

"I don't expect anything. I merely commented on your motive for hating androids. I didn't question your judgement," Connor interjected.

He glared at it. "The hell you aren't judging! I can hear it in your stupid voice! And I can see it in your goofy face!"

"I'm not programmed to have opinions. My primary function is to hunt deviant androids," Connor replied. "I suggest we continue with our investigation."

Hank pressed his lips together and stalked away. No judgement – as if! And the way it had insinuated that he was some hateful old bastard! Stupid robot had no idea who he was!

They reached the motel and hand noticed right away the 'No androids' sign on the door. He felt grim satisfaction and he glanced over his shoulder and said: "You stay here – no androids allowed!"

Connor just looked at him, if it was bothered by his harsh tone it didn't show it. Hank pushed the door harder open than necessary.

The young woman at the reception shot him a nasty look. "How may I help you, sir?" she asked icily and lowered the book she was reading.

"I'm Lieutenant Anderson," he showed her his badge, "last night there were two rogue androids seen in the vicinity – a woman and a girl. Have you or one of your colleagues seen them?"

"Didn't you notice our sign? We don't serve androids."

"I'm aware, but perhaps you've seen them wandering around?"

"Nope and I've been working the past eight hours." She leaned back in her chair and picked up her book.

"Thank you very much for your help, miss."

She gave him once more a withering glare but didn't reply.

Hank turned on his heel, what a waste of time. He stepped outside, Connor was expectantly looking at him.

"It was a dud, we have to come up with a plan-" In this very moment he saw a woman with short blonde hair and a little girl coming out of a fenced area of one of the abandoned houses. "Wait a moment …"

Before he could say anything the woman looked up and stared at them from across the street. She grabbed the girls arm and started running.

"Fuck!" yelled Hank and started to run, cars honked as he ran on the street. One car stopped with screeching brakes right in front of him and Hank had to run around it. From the corner of his eye he saw a grey blur leaping over the hood of the car and then he realised that Connor had given pursuit as well.

Even after the short sprint Hank's lungs were burning and he panted. Connor overtook him with ease and he watched in utter amazement how elegantly and fast it jumped turned over garbage bins and other obstacles. It was gaining on the fleeing androids. The YK500 was slow, the AX400 was literally dragging her. Hank slowed down, they were heading towards the railway station! He took a sharp turn and speed through a narrow alley towards the station.

Sure enough he intercepted them about fifty yards later right in front of the railway tracks. Hank drew his gun and aimed at the AX400. She stopped dead in her tracks, a surprised expression on her face.

Connor caught up to her and twisted her right arm behind her back. The AX400 screamed "no!" and from the corner of his eye Hank saw a movement, it felt like slow motion when he watched the girl drawing a Glock out of her little pink rucksack.

Hank froze, unable to move, all he could do was watching this little girl aim the gun at him. Just when he was sure she would fire, he saw how Connor pushed the AX400 on the ground and hit the girl's arm with a fluent kick. The girl- no the YK500 swung her - its arm around and trained the gun on Connor. It grabbed garbage bin lid and threw it at her, a shot rang out but it missed Connor. It lunged at the YK500 and grabbed its arm.

"Stop! Stop it!" yelled the AX400 and the YK500 let go of the gun. Staring with tears in its eyes at the AX400.

Hank could finally move again, he approached them, aiming his gun at the YK500. Connor picked the Glock up and said calmly: "I've notified patrol cars. They should be here any minute."

Hank gulped. "Good."


	4. The Lunch

Fowler actually smiled when they entered the precinct, he made his way to Hank and patted his back. "Good work, Hank!"

Hank rubbed his neck. "It was nothing …"

Fowler patted his back once again and left. Hank exhaled and went to his desk, he still felt queasy. He let himself fall on his chair, trying to ignore Connor standing right next to him.

"Do you have to breathe down my neck?" he grumbled.

Connors eyebrows twitched and for a moment Hank thought it was frowning. He swirled around in his chair to face it.

"Are you broke or something? You keep having strange twitches in your face."

"I'm trying to imitate facial expressions, heuristic programming proved to be effective in past iterations of me."

Hank sighed. "Don't you have pre-existing programming for that?"

"No, Cyberlife designed me to improve myself and any pre-existing programming could be limiting my ability to develop into a detective."

Fuck, he needed a drink … or at least a coffee. He got up and left Connor behind as he went to the break room in the back of the precinct. To his dismay he saw Gavin Reed and Tina Chen loitering around the coffee machine.

"Well well well, if it isn't the hero of the hour," sneered Gavin. "Didn't know you still had it in you, old man."

"Don't be mean, Gavin," said Tina.

Hank pressed his lips together, he wasn't in the mood for Gavin's pathetic attempts to rile him or Tina's misguided pity.

"Come on, he even needs a plastic crutch now. Well … at least it doesn't matter if he lets his new partner down."

Uncomfortable silence stretched out. Hank stared at the cup slowly being filled with hot coffee. When it was finished he literally fled the break room, his hand were still shaking when he reached his desk.

Connor had sat down at the unoccupied desk across from him. It was typing something in the computer. Hank looked at the lowest drawer. Just a bit, a little bit to calm down. He pulled the drawer up and took a small flask from it; he quickly poured some of its content into his mug before shoving the flask back into the drawer.

He took a deep gulp.

"Lieutenant?"

Hank massaged his temples and took another gulp. "What is it?"

"I took the liberty of compiling a preliminary report on the arrest and I created a tabular overview of all you open cases. I've sent them to you so that you can check on them and rectify any mistakes."

He felt the warmth of the booze in his stomach and he took a deep breath. With a deliberately slow movement he moved his mouse and clicked on the mail from Connor.

Hank focussed and read the first paragraph. It was of course flawless. He took another deep gulp and opened the next document. The overview was on point too. He felt a knot in his stomach. He checked the time: it was half past noon. He could go over to Jimmy's Bar for a quick break and get his umbrella before they would interrogate the androids.

Hank pushed his chair back and got up. Connor did the same and looked expectantly at him.

He lifted his hand. "I'm just getting lunch."

Connor blinked. "Of course. Do you mind if I accompany you?"

"For fucks sake – why on earth would you want to do that?"

"My heuristic-"

"Do whatever you want, I don't give a damn."

Hank walked towards the exit, Connor on his heels – for a moment he thought he heard snickering from two uniformed officers standing at the entrance. He pressed his lips to a thin line and continued his way.

-0-

They didn't talk on their way to the bar. The only sound was the snow crunching under their shoes. The knot in Hanks stomach became bigger when he saw the neon sign of the bar. Usually it relaxed him, made him less tense … but not today.

It bothered him that Connor saw him. It was stupid, it was just an android. Just an android. They entered the bar, the usual customers sat in the back of the bar, drinking beer. Did androids have olfactory senses? Hank slowed his step and took in the smell – beer, detergent, stale air and sweat. He took note of the blotchy fabric on the stools, the old nude calendar behind the bar and the ugly green linoleum floor.

Hank felt how heat crawled up his cheeks. He cleared his throat. "Jimmy, have you seen my umbrella?" he asked a little too loud.

Jimmy shrugged. "I guess it's still where you left it."

Hank looked at the umbrella stand next to the door. Of fucking course it was there. He grabbed it and brushed past Connor and stepped outside again.

There was a decent pizza shack just a few hundred yards away. He hadn't been there in ages. I briefly wondered if it was still open before he started to walk. He could feel Connor in his back. Stupid android. If it weren't for it he could've had a nice cold beer.

Minutes later they arrived at the pizzeria and Hank suddenly remembered why he had stopped going there: it was full of cops. He was painfully aware of the way some of them stared at him. Well, it was too late now to back out, he had to act casually. And it didn't matter anyway what they thought of him, he told himself.

He entered and the smell of fresh pizza made his stomach grumble. He hadn't even realised that he was hungry.

"Hank! Over here!" rang a voice out.

Hank turned to the speaker and saw Kowalski and two uniformed cops sitting at a table. Well, perhaps this hadn't been such a bad idea. Hank smiled and sat down next to Kowalski.

"Damn, Anderson. I heard that you got an android but I didn't know it followed you like that," said one of the cops and gestured towards Connor. Hank couldn't remember her name.

"I don't know what Fowler was thinking," added the other uniformed cop, "no plastic can be a real police officer. All they're good for is guarding stuff."

Hank cleared his throat. "Well, I did protest but you know Fowler – he's a stubborn jerk."

They laughed. Hank felt strangely relieved as he laughed with them. He shifted in his seat, straightening his back. Connor was about to sit down next to Hank.

"Wait – get me a pizza from the counter," said Hank.

Something twitched in Connors face. "Of course Lieutenant. What pizza do you want to have?"

"Uh, ham and mushrooms."

Connor turned and left for the counter.

Kowalski chuckled. "At least it's good for something."

"Yeah, you just have to put it to good use," said Hank with a grin.

The others laughed again.

Shortly after Connor returned, putting the pizza in front of Hank. "Thanks."

"Man, you're too old timey, Anderson. You don't have to thank and android," said one of the cops.

"I guess you're right," said Hank with a glance to Connor. It wasn't like it minded, right?

They talked about the latest hockey match and the last minute transfers the management had made before the season had started. Hank ate his pizza and made an effort to participate in the conversation. He noticed that nobody was paying attention to Connor even though it contributed to the conversation by supplying them with statistics to the individual players. It was like it wasn't even there. After a while Connor stopped talking altogether.

Hank started to feel uneasy. Connor was so eager and to see it become passive was … well, it kind of felt strange.

After a while Kowalski and the cops left. Hank was about to finish his pizza. "So, uh … how do you know all these statistics? Do you just download them?"

Connors mouth twitched again, it seemed eager again. "No, I read several online papers per day to be up to date with current affairs. Since the sport sections tend to be very … mathematical they're appealing and easy to understand."

"So, basically you like sport?"

Connor nodded as if he was only realising this himself. "Yes … I like sport."

Hank wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Come on, let's head back."

-0-

They interrogated the YK500 first. Hank tried to appear unfazed by the child chained to the table with handcuffs.

"Since when were you with Todd Williams?"

She looked as if she was about to cry. Could androids cry?

"He bought me on August 24, 2033."

"So you were with him for years … when did he buy the AX400?"

She looked from Hank to Connor who was standing behind Hank. "Her name is Kara."

"Alright," said Hank, "when did he buy Kara?"

"A week later. Where is Kara?" Again she was looking at Connor.

"She's in our custody same as you," replied Connor. "We want to find out what happened to Mr. Williams."

The YK500 looked down on the table. "What will happen to us?"

Connor stepped closer. "You already know. You will both send to Cyberlife to analyse your programming."

Hank gulped as a single tear started running down her cheek.

"I don't want to die."

"J-just tell us what happened," stammered Hank. He could feel a lump in his throat.

"Todd was always so angry. He threw things around … and sometimes- he was sorry afterwards."

"Did he hurt you?" asked Hank before he could stop himself. An android couldn't get hurt … he knew that of course.

She nodded. "He would mostly get mad at Kara. She's just come back from the repair station. She had forgotten about me."

Hank shot Connor a look.

"A memory reset is standard procedure when an android was badly damaged," explained Connor quickly. He turned to the YK500. "So she had just been reset before she took his gun-"

"I took the gun."

Hank grabbed the table. "What?"

She sniffled. "It wasn't her fault. I- I just didn't want her to forget me again. She always asks the same questions after she comes back, like a stranger."

"You shot Todd Williams?" asked Connor and Hank was grateful that he hadn't been the one to ask this question.

She nodded again. "I just didn't want to lose her again."

Hank slowly got up, they had a confession … not that it mattered – both androids would be destroyed. Case closed.

He looked one last time at the YK500. He took a sharp breath and left the interrogation room. He let Connor take the lead on the interrogation of the AX400. He felt tired.


	5. The Coffee

That evening Hank went for a long walk with Sumo, from time to time he took little sips of whiskey from a hip flask. It was cold but Sumo didn't seem to mind, he sniffed at every tree and tried to chase after a cat on the other side of the street.

"Stop it you dumb dog! You're too old for this shit," said Hank fondly.

Back at home he realised once more that his small house was a mess. He tidied a little before giving up and sitting down in front of the TV with a six-pack.

He watched an old championship match from 1998 – Chicago Bulls vs. Utah Jazz. He knew every pass and every score of this game. He had watched it countless times … always after a particularly hard case. Some shrink would probably be able to tell him why he had the need to watch the same game over and over again – but he didn't give a fuck as long as it made him calm. It did work, didn't it? That was all that mattered.

-0-

The next morning he got up when the alarm clock went off instead of tapping on the snooze button. His head hurt but he nonetheless went to the shower and made himself ready. Connor would be punctual. Plastic crutch, huh? He would show them.

When he arrived at 8:32 at the office he felt good. He yawned when he sat down at his desk, after scrolling through two new emails concerning the precincts Christmas party he decided to get a coffee before beginning to work.

At the doorway to the break room he stopped. Gavin and some of his friends were sitting at a table, grinning at Connor who stood in front of them – hell, does Gavin actually work sometimes or does he just guzzle coffee? And why was Connor here?

"Fuck look at that … Our friend the plastic detective is back in town! Congratulations on last night, very impressive!" sneered Gavin.

Hank couldn't see Connors face but he was certain that there was again this strange twitch in the corner of its mouth. "Hello, Detective Reed," Connor said.

One of the uniformed cops narrowed his eyes. "Never seen an android like you before … What model are you?"

Hank almost scoffed – as if wasn't written clearly on Connor's uniform. Detroit's fines indeed … He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway.

"RK800. I'm a prototype."

"A prototype?" Gavin turned to Tina Chen who was sitting next to him. "Android detective. So machines gonna replace us all, is that it?"

He directed his glance again at Connor. "Hey, bring me a coffee, dipshit," he suddenly said.

Connor just stood there, then Gavin said loudly: "Get a move on! Two sugars."

The android turned on his heel and walked over to the coffee machine. The scene makes Hank uneasy and he pushed himself away from the doorway.

The machine had finished pouring out the coffee and Connor brought the steaming mug to Gavin. Gavin smirked and stood up, looking from the mug to Connor with an air of superiority. The other cops got up as well and began to walk away. Tina frowned a little before she left, brushing past Hank without saying anything.

Connor awkwardly stretched its hand with the mug out. It looked eager as alway. Gavin glanced at Hank before swatting the mug away, coffee spilled on Connor's hand and the floor.

"Hey!" said Hank. "That's unnecessary!"

Gavin's eyebrow rose. "Well, if it isn't Geppetto."

Hank snorted. "Pinocchio jokes, really? I bet you worked on that sad little pun the whole night."

Gavin grimaced and left. Connor was looking at Hank.

"Good morning, Lieutenant," it said cheerful.

"Let's clean this up," sighed Hank and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He took the mug out of Connors hand and put it on the table next to them. He wiped quickly across Connor's hand, to his surprise it felt warm. Hank let quickly go and grabbed the mug to put it into the sink next to the coffee machine. He glanced over his shoulder.

Connor still stood where he had left it, looking with something like curiosity at him. Hank sighed and fixed himself a coffee.

-0-

They visited two crime scenes in the morning – as it turned out Connor's overview really helped to use their time efficiently. Both cases were closed quickly as they were only about androids that had been destroyed by anti-android activists.

It was almost noon when they returned to Hanks car. Hank wiped the snow from his jacket and coughed as he got into the driver's seat. He fiddled with the heater and started the engine as soon as Connor had gotten into the car too. He activated the wiper and accelerated slowly.

"It's fucking freezing, aren't you cold?" asked Hank.

"Androids register temperature but we don't feel it like humans do. My bio-components would only be damaged if I were to remain more than three hours in sub-zero temperatures."

"But your hand was warm this morning."

"Yes, studies have shown that humans didn't like androids that were cold. And it helps to prevent Thirium from clumping." Connor straightened his tie. "It used to be a problem in older models."

"Well, it's also a problem in older human models."

"According to my files the cause for clogged blood vessels is unusually unhealthy food."

"Speaking of which," said Hank and turned on the blinker as he stopped across from his favourite fast-food joint. "Time for lunch."

-0-

The neon sign 'Chicken Feed' flickered a little when Hank stepped to the counter of the food truck. He could hear Connor walking behind him. The counter itself had old sauce stains on it and he was pretty sure that the place wouldn't pass a health inspection. But Hank didn't care. It felt authentic.

"The usual, Gary," said Hank and rubbed his hands together. It really was fucking freezing.

Gary, a burly man in a white apron, gave a non-committal grunt and began to put together a hamburger. His co-worker, a skinny teen with acne, put the fries into the fryer and eyed Connor.

She pointed to a sign: 'Real people at work'. "No androids allowed."

"It's with me," said Hank.

"Just take it with you when you leave then."

"Don't worry, it follows me everywhere … like a poodle."

Gary handed him the burger and the fries. "I never thought you were the kind of guy to buy one of them."

Hank swiped his credit card against the wireless payment symbol. "I didn't. They sent me this piece of plastic for a partner." He nodded at them before he crossed the street to get back to his car. With a low grunt he let himself fall into the seat and started to unwrap the burger.

Of course Connor followed him back. "Do you eat here often?"

Hank took a bite and chewed. "Gary makes the best burgers in Detroit."

After a moment of silence Connor spoke again: "Can I ask you a personal question?"

Hank continued eating and nodded. It was not like he could stop Connor anyway.

"Why do you hate androids so much?"

That again. "I have my reasons." He devoured the last bit of the burger and started with the fries. "I thought you guys don't have emotions, why does it bother it so much?"

"We don't have emotions. But as you pointed out: There are things I like and there are things I don't like. And I try to understand you."

"What's there to understand?"

"It's obvious that you don't like me. But Detective Reed's behaviour this morning seemed to bother you."

Hank scrunched the wrapping up and threw it in the back of the car. Connor was right of course, it had bothered him. Hank didn't know why he had spoken up … it had just felt wrong. Cruel even.

"I just thought it was unfair. It's not like you chose to be here." As soon as the words had left his mouth he realised that the same logic could be applied to him. Calling Connor names, ordering it get a pizza … was he really different from Gavin?

Hank turned the engine on. Today was the 9th of November … He was just getting hung up on things. There was no need to overthink things.

-0-

Back at the precinct they worked on files and filed evidence in the archives. Hank had to admit that Connor really expedited the paper work – in just four hours he had gotten so much work done like in two ordinary work days.

Well, he thought to himself while leaning back in his chair. There was a reason why they want to replace people with machines. Cold ruthless efficiency.

His sights fell on Connor across of him. Cold and ruthless weren't terms he would describe Connor with of course. It was rather good at being non-threatening with its goofy voice and its youthful face.

He sighed and pushed his chair back. Time to go to Jimmy's – he had deserved a little something after all the work.

Connor looked up, before it could get up Hank lifted his hand. "I'm calling it a day."

It blinked. "Of course, Lieutenant. See you tomorrow." Connor turned its attention back on the computer.

Hank gulped down his whiskey and gave a nod to Jimmy before he left the bar. He felt pleasantly relaxed and warm – it didn't even bother him that it was snowing again. And why should it? He would just call a taxi.

Outside he fumbled in his jacket until he found his smartphone in his jacket. He cursed under his breath when he realised that once again it had run out of battery. He considered for a brief moment to use the old phone in Jimmy's bar but then he remembered that he had seen one of the old regular guests go to the phone just minutes before. Poor Claus … since his ex-wife had blocked his calls and his messages he sometimes tried to call her with Jimmy's phone. Hank was in no mood to get his buzz killed either by listening to Claus fighting with his ex.

He would just walk to the precinct and call a taxi from there. Hank put his gloves and began walking. He put a chewing gum in his mouth before he entered the precinct.

Connor was of course still working. It gave Hank a real smile when it saw him. Hank frowned.

"Since when can you smile like that?" he blurted out.

"My heuristic routines have collected enough data to produce a smile of my own," replied Connor eagerly.

"Took you long enough."

"Well, it wasn't easy since you were my primary contact."

Hank barked a short laugh. "Good one."

"Have you decided to work a bit more?" asked Connor.

"Nah, I'm just calling a taxi. My phone is empty."

"I could drive you," suggested Connor.

Hank registered that it hadn't even asked why he wasn't driving himself. He could feel heat crawl up his cheeks.

"Otherwise you would've to use another taxi tomorrow – it's not efficient," continued Connor.

That was true … Hank hadn't thought about the next morning. It would be convenient if he had his car.

"Well, if you don't mind doing it," said Hank and threw Connor the keys.


	6. The Book

With a start Hank woke up when the car finally stopped. He wiped over his face. When had he fallen asleep?

"You're home, Lieutenant."

He groaned and got out of the car. A cold gush of wind made him shiver. He turned to face Connor and it threw him his keys. Hank missed and they fell into the snow.

"Fuck."

He picked them up and coughed. He fumbled a little at the door before it was open. He could hear Sumo barking lazily from the kitchen.

"Good night, Lieutenant."

Hank turned around and stumbled a little. He blinked a few times. Connor stood next to the car, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Do- do you intent to stand there the whole fucking night?"

"If you want me off your property I'll just wait at the road."

Hank felt the warmth from the house in his back and the cold wind on his face. He felt a strange twinge in his chest seeing this college boy standing in his drive way.

"So you can soak my seat tomorrow? No way – you- you come in here … stupid tin can," the last bit was only muttered.

"Alright."

Hank turned and entered the house, behind him he heard Connors steps. As soon as it was inside he closed the door. Hank shed his coat and threw his gloves and his cap on the dresser. With a grunt he pulled his boots off and threw them carelessly in front of the door.

After a short moment of hesitation Connor followed his example: It took off its jacket and shoes. Sumo barked again and greeted Hank with a wagging tail. When he saw Connor he barked again and got up from the floor.

"You're a real guard dog, aren't you?" asked Hank and patted him as he brushed past him.

Sumo began sniffing Connors hands. Hank saw that its LED light turned red and that it took a step back. Something twitched in its face.

"Sumo is just greeting you."

Connor glanced at Hank and turned its attention again on Sumo. The LED was now blue. It slowly raised its hand and patted Sumo's head; its mouth was slightly open, there was surprise and something like wonder apparent.

"Why was your LED red before?"

"Because I was overtaxed – I utilised all possible resources to cope with the situation."

Hank took Sumos food out and poured the dry food into his bowl. "I've only see it on damaged androids before."

Within seconds the heavy dog scrambled to his bowl and began eating with loud noises.

"Since we can't feel physical pain all distress translates into attempts to cope with whatever we're facing. An attempt to restore normalcy."

Hank didn't know how to respond. It sounded an awful lot like fear and shock. Damn. He was too drunk for this conversation.

Then he remembered that he still hadn't bought groceries. With a sigh he opened the cupboard and took a can with soup in it out. He poured it into a bowl and put it into the microwave.

He opened the fridge and took a beer – his last one and cracked it open. Then he saw that Connor still stood in the entrance, looking around. Hank realised that he had no idea what he was to do with it. Perhaps it was best to pretend it wasn't there?

He went in the living room and let himself fall on the couch. He activated the TV with the touch pad and switched through the channels until he found a hockey game. Connor sat down next to him, his LED once again switching from blue to yellow and back again.

The microwave beeped and Hank got his soup. He sat down in front of the TV and put the soup in front of him. He grimaced when he tasted it – it was only lukewarm. Whatever.

He focussed on the game as he ate. Detroit Red Gears against New York Penguins … when did they change their names again? He couldn't remember.

"Smith should pass sooner," Connor suddenly said.

Hank leaned back and took another gulp of beer. "Of course he should – but he cares more about his own score that the team."

"That seems illogical."

"Well, humans are illogical creatures. But I guess you already knew that."

"Yes."

They watched the rest of the game commenting occasionally on the plays and the lack of precision in the passes. Hank had finished his beer long ago and had switched to bourbon.

He felt warm and comfortable when he turned the TV off. He got off the couch and shuffled into the kitchen, putting the dishes in the machine. Then he remembered that he still hadn't charged his phone.

He got it from his jacket and plugged it in in the kitchen. It restarted – he had gotten two messages from Jean. Damn it – he had forgotten to write her.

'Can you make it tomorrow?' the first text asked. She had written it in the late afternoon.

'Hank – you there?' The second from an hour ago.

He wrote back: 'Yeah, I will be there.'

'You don't have to. You know that, right?'

Seemed that she had been waiting for his answer. 'I know. You know I want to come – l just missed last year because of a case.'

'Well, Chris and I will be there.'

Chris! Why on earth was he intruding? Hank took a deep breath. Apparently Jean had asked him to come, there was no need to be dramatic.

'Alright, see you tomorrow.'

'See you.'

He was tired and his head started to hurt, but he still needed to go out with Sumo. He took the leash and whistled. Sumo barked somewhere in the house and came running around a corner.

"Are you going for a walk?" asked Connor and stepped into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I won't be long. You can watch TV or do whatever you're doing when … when you're alone."

"Of course, thank you."

Hank put the leash on Sumo. "What for?"

"Well, you invited me into your home. It seems appropriate to thank the host."

Host? Hank glanced over the mess in the kitchen and the grubby living room. He scoffed. "Whatever."

-0-

About an hour later they returned. Sumo was beat and disappeared – he probably went to his favourite sleeping spot in the pantry – right next to the warm boiler. Hank slipped out of his coat and shoes and saw that Connor was standing in front of the bookshelf in the living room.

"Hello Lieutenant," it said.

"Found something interesting to read?" asked Hank. He started to pick up the empty beer cans in the kitchen.

"Most of the book are online available … expect for this one." Connor pulled a book with a dark green cover off the shelve.

Hank threw the cans into the recycling bin and drew closer. Probably one of his old novels – he used to read a lot when he was younger. He froze when he saw the title "The Amazing Adventures of Cole Coleslaw".

It wasn't his, it had been Cole's favourite book – some personalized fairy tale from some cheap web site. Cole had loved it. Hank had forgotten that he still had it.

"It's just a children's story," Hank said, his mouth was dry.

Connor put it back. "You seem upset."

Hank gulped. "I- I'll go to sleep now. You can stay here if you want." Without waiting for a response he went into his bedroom and closed the door. He sniffled. He had forgotten about the book. Completely forgotten.

-0-

Soft knocking on his door woke Hank up and for a moment he was confused. He reached for his smartphone but it wasn't on his bedside table.

Another knock. Damn it – he must've forgotten it in the kitchen where it was charging up.

"Yeah?"

"Sorry to bother you, Lieutenant. But your alarm went off."

"Yeah, it's alright."

Footsteps receded and Hank sat up. He really had to pull himself together; Fowler had made clear that there were limits of what he accepted. If it weren't for Connor … if it weren't for it he hadn't even realised that he still had Cole's book.

He hastily put clothes on and did his morning routine faster than usual. Then he headed into the kitchen and noticed with a frown that the framed picture on the table was turned over. It must've happened when he cleaned the kitchen yesterday.

He picked it up and put it back on its place. It showed a brown-haired boy. Cole was laughing, his tooth gap was visible. Hank loved this picture, Cole looked mischievous. He was wearing his favourite red T-Shirt when they took the picture. Today five years ago … had it been only five years? It felt longer.

Only now he realised that there was a note on the table. The handwriting looked like it was printed out, but someone had used a pencil.

'I took to liberty to go on a walk with Sumo. He seemed to get restless. – Connor.'

Hank sighted and turned to make coffee. He even found old corn flakes and milk that hadn't expired yet. He fixed himself breakfast.

Cyberlife was really good with its programming. Connor was agreeable and it was very useful – even if he would never admit it out loud. But in the end it was only another machine, not a real person.

He put the dishes away. Then he turned and saw once again the old pizza boxes and the old glasses and dishes. Only a machine he thought to himself when he started to clean.

Hank had even cleaned the trash out of the car when Connor and Sumo returned. He assumed that Connor registered the now missing mess, but it didn't say anything.

"Do you ever need to drink or to eat?" asked Hank as he gulped down the last of his coffee.

"No, I just need Thirium if I'm injured."

Hank went to the entrance and started to get dressed. "I guess you're lucky – you don't have to eat shitty food just to keep going."

Connor grabbed its shoes and put them on. "True, but I sometimes wonder how food tastes."

"So you don't have taste receptors? Might be better considering all the stuff you put in your mouth."

They left the house and stamped through the snow. Hank used the ice scraper to get rid of the snow on the windshield.

"Why don't you use your garage?" asked Connor. "It would be more efficient to put the car inside."

Hank paused for a moment before he answered. "There is stuff in the garage. I will go through it when I find the time."

Connor looked at him as if it wanted to ask more but in the end it stayed silent.


	7. The Invitation

The rest of the day was rather uneventful, there were again a few cases concerning missing and damaged androids. With Connor's help he wrapped them up quickly. At noon he decided to eat a pack of instant noodles he had stashed in his desk.

He sat in the break room slurping down the watery noodles while reading an online paper on his phone when Gavin turned up. Hank stiffened a little but he did his best to ignore him.

Gavin took a sandwich out of the fridge and sat down at a table in one corner. They both ate in silence.

Minutes later Connor appeared. "Lieutenant, a report concerning a missing android has just come in. It's an AX400 that was supposed to take care of an elderly man – he's missing too."

Hank wiped his mouth with a napkin before crumbling it and throwing it into the empty bowl. "Give me a minute and we'll be on our way. You got the address, right?"

"Of course."

He cleaned his table and glanced at Gavin on his way out. Gavin was glaring at him, Hank fully expected him to say something provocative but to his surprise he didn't say a word.

-0-

"I came home about an hour ago," said the sobbing middle-aged woman, "daddy and Clarisse should've been here, but the id system says that they left yesterday evening and haven't been back since."

Hank nodded. "I see. I assume you've tried to call the android?"

"Of course, she usually answers right away. I've been trying for hours to get a hold of them – dad's phone is off too."

"Has the AX400 acted differently in the last couple of days?" asked Connor; it was looking around in the living room of the small apartment.

She shook her head. "Not that I know of … no, I haven't noticed anything. Something must've happened to them, Clarisse is so reliable. It's just me and dad you know? And Clarisse of course – she's been a great help."

Hank went over to a small shelve – there were a couple of framed pictures. Most of them showed the woman when she was young, two of them showed an old man and a young blonde woman in an android uniform.

"When did you buy her, Ms. Rasheed?"

"Why do you keep asking about her? I already told you …" she took a deep breath. "I bought her seven years ago. Dad was getting worse and my boss was already complaining about all the time I took off to take care of him."

Connor pointed at one door in the back of the apartment. "I noticed a small chamber with a bed, is someone else living here?"

The woman wiped over her face, suddenly reluctant. "It- it's Clarisse's room." She sobered up and lifted her chin defiantly. "I know that she's an android, okay? But as far as it concerns me she's a part of this family. So I made her a room."

Hank shrugged. "That's your business, ma'am." He saved his notes and put the pad away. "I think we have everything we need-"

"Lieutenant."

Hank saw that Connor was standing in front of the pictures. Had he found a clue?

"Please excuse us, ma'am." He stepped closer to Connor.

"I cross-referenced Mr. Rasheed's picture with our data banks. A body matching his facial structure and an android were found this morning in Belle Isle Park. The android was destroyed with brute force, anti-android slogans were sprayed on its body. Mr. Rasheed was found in his wheel-chair next to it – he died from heart failure."

"Fuck," said Hank with a low voice. He closed his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them again and wiped over his face. "You're certain?"

"The data is clear, and there is a blood sample in the data bank. I can collect genetic material and compare them."

"Do that – I want to be absolutely certain."

Connor straightened his tie and disappeared into the bathroom.

"What- what is it?" asked Ms. Rasheed.

"We just want to check something, ma'am," said Hank. Damn it, of all days … today he had to tell this woman that her family was gone. Fuck. There was a reason why he was in the android department. Gavin had been the one to talk to people.

Connor returned and nodded. Fuck.

"Ms. Rasheed," said Hank, "please sit down."

She stared at him wide-eyed before her face screwed up and she started to sob. "No … no." She slowly sat down on her couch.

"I'm sorry. They were found at Belle Isle Park. Your father died from cardiac arrest. Somebody destroyed Clarisse." Hank sat down next to her and took her hand.

She pulled it away. "Promise me you find who did this." Tears were still streaming down her cheeks but there was a hard look in her eyes.

Hank averted his gaze.

Ms. Rasheed got up and turned to Connor. "You need to find the culprits … they- they took everything from me."

Hank looked up and saw a twitch on Connor's face. Don't say it, don't say it-

"We will find them, Ms. Rasheed."

Hank stood up and handed Ms. Rasheed the contact info of a care team. "If you want to talk to someone …"

She just stared at him.

-0-

Hank remained silent until they sat in his car; he grabbed the wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. "To think that the most advanced prototype would make such a rookie mistake!"

Connor tilted its head. "Lieutenant, I-"

"Never ever promise something like that! You know the goddamn statistics! You know that we'll most likely never catch them!"

"I thought that was what she wanted to hear."

Hank let go of the wheel and pointed his index finger at Connor. "Of fucking course it was – but you're giving her hope. What if she waits to hear from us?"

Its LED turned yellow for a moment. "I see. I apologize."

"It's not your job to tell people what they want to hear. It's your job to tell them the truth. You're not some service droid – you're a cop! Act like it!"

"I understand, Lieutenant."

Hank exhaled and turned the car on. "Let's just head back to the precinct. We can have a look at the file – perhaps we can find some leads."

-0-

The files didn't hold any miraculous clues – just as Hank had suspected. The android had been trashed with baseball bats; the old man was just a collateral. Fuck.

He checked the clock on his screen, it was 3:44 p.m. He had to leave now if he wanted to make it to the cemetery in time. He glanced at his drawer, after a moment he quickly pulled the drawer up and took a swing from his flask.

Then he grabbed his jacket. "I'm leaving early today. See you tomorrow."

Connor nodded eagerly. "I'll finish up – see you tomorrow, Lieutenant."

-0-

Jean and Chris were already at the grave when he arrived. Jean wore a green parka, her cheeks were rosy – she looked good. Hank noticed that she had dyed her hair – it had a deeper shade of brown than usual. She wasn't a small woman, but she was dwarfed by the tall man beside her: Chris wore a duvet jacket that made him look even more muscular – if that was even possible.

She looked at him from head to toe. "Hi Hank."

Hank gave Chris a rough handshake. "Chris." Then he turned to face Jean who was setting down a few candles in the freshly fallen snow. "Jean."

She used an old lighter to light them up. "Crazy to think that's already been three years, isn't it?"

"It is … yesterday I found 'The Amazing Adventures of Cole Coleslaw' in my shelves." Hank didn't know why he brought it up. It had just been the first thing that had come to his mind.

Jean gave him a quick smile. "Cole loved this stupid book. God knows why. It was full of typos and the drawings were sloppy."

"He was the hero of his own story – of course he loved it. Everybody wants to be a hero," said Hank.

"I thought you had packed everything away," said Jean in a low voice. It wasn't an accusation, just a statement.

"So did I."

The silence stretched out. They watched the candles burn. It was like this every year, there was nothing to say.

Chris cleared his throat. "Was it one of these personalised books?"

"Yeah, I bought it to him for his 4th birthday," replied Hank, grateful for the question that broke the quietness.

"I had this shabby teddy bear when I was a kid, but I loved it literally to bits," Chris continued. "I guess kids love things whether they're state of the art or not."

"You're right. Cole also had this bunny … what did he call it again?"

"Mr. Carrot," said Jean.

"Mr. Carrot … I guess he's in the garage too."

"If you want we can go through the boxes … I would like to have something to remember him by," suggested Jean.

Hank rubbed his gloved hands together. "Sure. If you're ready."

She gave him a sad smile. "I will never be ready, Hank. But leaving everything in your garage isn't going to solve anything."

Hank gulped, he had a tight feeling in his throat. "I don't mind keeping them for a while longer. Even though it's not efficient."

Jean looked at him. "Not efficient?"

Hank shifted his weight from one leg to another. "Well, it's- it's just something someone said to me."

"Sounds to me that you're finally talking to people again," she said. "That's good. You were getting a little too lonely-"

"I'm not lonely," snapped Hank. "I got Sumo."

Jean lifted her hands. "Alright, alright. But since I imagine it wasn't Sumo who was talking about efficiency-"

"It was my- my new partner, alright?" He crossed his arms and frowned.

"Interrupting people again, eh? Be sure that you're nicer to your partner."

Silence stretched out. Hank was annoyed at himself. He shouldn't have taken a sip of whiskey. Then he would have kept his trap shut instead of going on about the stupid book and the garage. Fuck.

Chris cleared his throat. "Well, since there is no smooth way to ask, I'm doing it the awkward way: Hank, if you want you can come over for Christmas. My brother will be there too, he and his boyfriend are quite nice."

"Quite nice?" asked Hank.

"My brother can be a jerk sometimes, but nobody is perfect, eh?"

Hank gave him a genuine smile. "Thank you, Chris. I really appreciate it. Perhaps I will take you up on your offer."

They watched the candles for a bit longer before they left. Hank's thoughts returned to Chris' offer as he sat in the driver's seat of his car. He knew of course that Jean and Chris were worried about him … and that was more that could be said for the rest of the damn world. But there was no way he could go to their party. Alone the thought of sitting next to Jean without Cole … there was something about it that made his chest hurt.

He backed out of the parking lot and remembered that he should buy food – as well as booze of course.

As he steered through the streets towards the nearest shopping mall he went over the conversation again. Why on earth had he told them that he had a new partner instead of an android? 'No, I'm not lonely at all. Just the other day I invited an android over to watch ice hockey – no, I haven't bought one. They gave it to me because nobody would work with me.' Yeah, that wouldn't have been pathetic at all.


	8. The Cop

He put the groceries on the kitchen table. Sumo waited next to his empty bowl. Hank fed him and started to store the food. The only sound was Sumo's smacking, it was a little too quiet. He grabbed the remote control and activated the TV.

A TV host with brilliant white teeth and a blow dry appeared and started to talk. Hank didn't pay attention to him. He stuffed a few old take-away boxes in the garbage bin and took a look around. The kitchen looked nice.

He picked up Cole's picture and looked at him for a moment. He sniffled and grabbed one of the TV dinners he had bought. He did some laundry while the dinner was in the micro wave.

The macaroni with cheese was decent enough. He chewed slowly while watching the recap of the latest NBA match.

They showed Collier's best shoots. "Who care about your points?" said Hank out loud. "You'd rather work on your passing skills, you jerk! Point guard my ass." He fleetingly looked on the spot where Connor had been. Then he finished his meal and shuffled to the entrance. Sumo barked lazily.

"Not today. I have an appointment elsewhere." Hank put his coat and his snow boots on and left.

-0-

The Detroit river was almost black in the darkness. It looked like a stream of liquid tar. Hank wiped snow off one of the swings in the playground and sat down. He used his teeth to pull his right glove off, then he opened the bottle of whiskey he had brought along.

The first sip burned in his throat and he coughed. He shouldn't have bought the cheap stuff. He began to swing a little. Cole had loved this place.

'Faster daddy!' he had screamed on the top of his lungs.

'If you go any faster you'll land in the river,' had Hank always answered.

Cole had insisted that they came here, it had been a very cold day. The river bank had almost been frozen … but Cold still wanted to come. Hank took another gulp. If only he had refused. But how could've he refused? He could still see him – with his tooth space, his cheerful laughter. Hank used to run his hand through Cole's brown hair, wondering how a grumpy 45 year old cop and a cynical 39 year old medic had managed to have a child that was so bright, kind and curious.

He felt tears in his eyes and took another gulp. He shouldn't come here. There was an iron grip around his heart that felt tighter every year. But he simply couldn't stay away.

The weight of his gun in his shoulder holster felt heavier by the minute. A year ago he had been tempted. But he had investigated enough suicides and attempted suicides to know what could go wrong. He scoffed and spit out. And he didn't want to leave Jean alone … of course she had Chris and her friends … but still … she continued with her life, held her head high and kept Cole's memory alive.

She had moved on without forgetting about Cole. Why couldn't he?

It started to snow, Hank watched as the snow began to cover his footprints.

-0-

Days went by; Hank and Connor worked small cases and cleared quite a few open cases or rather filed them.

Hank was just typing a mail when Gavin showed up at Connor's desk.

"Hey dipshit, get me a coffee."

Connor looked up from his work. "I'm sorry, Detective Reed, I have to refuse."

Gavin leaned down. "What the fuck did you say?"

Hank frowned. "Hey!"

"Stay out of it, Hank!" hissed Gavin.

"I said that I refuse to serve you coffee."

Some of the other cops around them stopped working and stared at them. Gavin hesitated for a moment before he raised his voice. "I have to obey me, you stupid plastic asshole!"

Connor tilted its head a little. "I'm not a service droid – I'm a cop. And I don't answer to you."

Hank stared at Connor slack-jawed. What the-

Gavin was equally dumbfounded, then his face screwed up in anger. Just before he could say anything Fowler's voice rang out.

"Show is over, folks. Back to work."

Hank turned in his chair and saw the captain in front of his office. Fowler crossed his arms. "That means you too, Reed!"

Gavin glared once again at Connor, then at Hank. "Assholes!" He stormed away.

Hank laughed. "My god! That was hilarious!"

Connor blinked. "It was you how pointed out that I shouldn't-"

"I know, I know. I just never thought that you would actually do it. Good one!"

Connor gave him a quick smile and continued to work. Hank's gaze lingered a little longer on Connor. Look at him, what an eager smart-ass, Hank thought. He felt oddly proud. Well, it seemed that he could teach this prototype a trick or two.

"Well, that calls for a celebration!" Hank grabbed his coat. "Let's finish early today. I'm in the mood for a visit at Jimmy's."

Connor looked up from the work. "Androids aren't allowed in Jimmy's bar."

"Yes, yes of course," Hank quickly said. "I didn't mean for you to actually come. It- it was only a figure of speech."

"Ah, I see." Connor turned his attention back to the screen.

Hank hastily put the coat on and left. He wasn't in the mood to celebrate anymore.

-0-

The next day they were on the way to interrogate a witness because of android vandalism when the radio in Hank's car came to life: "All units, possible 204 in sector 2532."

Fucking hell. Hank activated the microphone in the car. "This is MI-33, we're in sector 2532. Responding."

"Acknowledged. Be advised: Active shooter or active shooters in Elementary School on 59th. Multiple shots fired."

Hank felt how the colour drained from his face. They were close, just a couple of hundred yards. He accelerated and after what seemed like an eternity they came to halt in front of the School. He had expected to see fleeing children but the yard was empty … of course they would be on lock-down.

He activated the microphone again. "This is MI-33, we're at the school gate. We're going in."

"Roger that MI-33. Patrol cars and SWAT are on their way."

Hank could feel his heart hammering when he exited the car, he took the gun out of his holster and started running. He could hear Connor's footsteps behind him – it was insane to go in with only one armed officer, android cops weren't allowed to carry weapons and Connor was no exception. But it wasn't a choice; he- they had to stop the shooter!

Despite the cold Hank could feel sweat running down his spine as he cautiously entered through the front door. Above them shots fell, accompanied by screams. They made a run for the stairs.

The screams were coming from a room where the doors had been busted open. Hank could hear male voices screaming and swearing. Two shooters?

"Move asshole!" yelled a female voice.

"Please," said a male voice.

"You heard him!" yelled another male voice.

Fuck there were indeed two of them. Hank lifted his gun.

Suddenly he felt Connors hand on his shoulder. "Give me the gun, Lieutenant," it whispered.

"What?"

"My aim is superior, and I won't go down even if I'm hit."

He was right of course. Androids were known for their exceptional aim – one of the reasons the Pentagon had ordered thousands of them for combat. Hank hesitated for a fraction of a second before he exhaled and handed Connor the gun. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Connor crept to the door, Hank followed him closely. Without warning Connor simply got up and walked into the room, the gun drawn. Hank stared at it, there was no muscle moving in its face, it shot two times in quick succession, then he twitched and blue blood splashed on the wall behind him. Connor fired two more shots before he lowered his arm. He spun the gun in his hand and presented the gun's handle to Hank.

Hank grabbed it and stepped into the room. Two bodies were lying on the left and the right, both were wearing cameo clothes with a swastika insignia on their upper arm. In one corner were children and adults huddled, shaking with fear.

"Stay here until reinforcement arrives," said Hank to one slender man in a bright green sweater holding a small girl, "are there any more shooters you're aware of?"

The crying man shook his head. "I saw only two of them."

"Alright, stay here, we'll scour the vicinity just to be sure, okay?"

"Don't leave us alone," said the man said; he was clearly on the verge of panic the children behind him were crying and asking for their mommies.

Flickering blue lights from outside became visible through the windows, screeching tires and crackling radios accompanied the arrived police. Hank exhaled. "Alright, we'll stay here with you."

He went to the two shooters and knelt down. Both had two shots in their forehead, there was no way they were still living.

He turned to face Connor, he was still standing at the exact same spot as before. Its LED was turning from yellow to red and back again. Its- no, his left shoulder had been hit, drops of blue blood ran down his face and the wall behind him.

"Connor, my god – what … what should I do?"

He blinked quickly. "My self-diagnostic is complete. No critical bio components were injured."

-0-

Moments later the SWAT team arrived, escorting everyone outside. About two hours later Fowler arrived and announced that all children and teachers were evacuated safely – it appeared that there had been only two shooters.

Hank had been examined by a medic despite his protests. Fowler joined him.

"Even grumpy after turning out to be a hero, Hank?"

"Fuck you, Bob."

Fowler sighed. "Why are you like this? Nobody got killed and it's thanks to you."

Hank grimaced. "You saw the Thirium on the wall. You know exactly who the hero was. Stupid android suggested it himself."

"'Himself'? Don't pretend that it's human. A machine can't be a hero."

"I don't care, I won't adorn myself with false laurels," growled Hank.

Fowler turned to the medic. "Would you excuse us, please?"

The woman nodded and left. Fowler grabbed Hank by his coat. "Shut the fuck up! Don't you get it? If we admit that an android saved children while a human cop hid behind it we'll lose – we'll all lose. Cyberlife will PR the shit out of this and we'll all be out of a job in six month!"

Hank swatted his hands away. "I didn't hide – you know as well as I do that androids have shooting skills that we can only dream of. It was the right call. If you want to think that I was a coward – fine! But I'm rather branded a yellow-bellied jerk than risking the lives of these children!"

"I know you and I know what these androids are capable of. I know that you're not a coward – but that's beside the point. You'll be the hero of this story, period."

Hank scoffed. "There will be no story, Bob."

Fowler rubbed his temples. "What are you going on about now?"

"Have you seen more than one camera team? There are not dead victims, no reason for politicians to send their prayer and thoughts to the victims. Have you seen the neighbourhood we're in? Nobody gives a damn!"

Fowler just stared at him, turned on his heel and left.

-0-

It took Hank a while to find Connor in the gaggle of cops surrounding the school. His white shirt was drenched in blue Thirium, but he looked unfazed. The LED was blue again.

"How are you?" asked Hank. Damn, he needed a drink.

"I'm fine. There was, as already mentioned, only minimal damage."

"Do you, uh, need Thirium?"

Connor nodded. "I need to replenish some of it. There is a Cyberlife store not far from here."

"Come on, I'll take you there."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Doesn't it hurt … or whatever?" asked Hank as he drove towards the Cyberlife store.

"Androids don't feel pain. But I register the impairment." He paused for a moment. "I don't like it."

Hank cleared his throat. "Listen, what you did today … you saved a lot of lives."

"It's my job, I'm a cop."

Hank felt a lump in his throat and gulped. "Damn right you are." He patted Connor's knee awkwardly.

-0-

It took almost two hours until they had repaired Connor, given him a new shirt and a new jacket and send him on his way.

Hank felt exhausted when they finally arrived back at the car. His hands started to shake. Fuck, if it weren't for Connor … who knows if Hank would've been able to stop the shooters on his own.

"Lieutenant?" Connor sounded worried.

"It's just the adrenalin … I think. Would you mind driving me home?"

"Not at all."


	9. The Partner

Sumo was wagging his tail when they entered the house, Hanks hands didn't shake anymore when he gave Sumo his food. Hank was completely beat, he just grabbed a beer and let himself fall down on the couch.

His thoughts returned to the crying children. The dead bodies of the attackers. He took another gulp.

He turned on the TV and picked the NBA championship finals 1998. Chicago Bull vs. Utah Jazz. He always liked the start, the first few points. He stared at the screen, fully aware that Connor was still standing in the kitchen, looking at him.

After a while he sat down next to Hank.

"Look at that score," said Hank a little too loud. "Karl Malone was a force to be reckoned with back in the day. A dirty player of course, a real enforcer."

"His statistics were solid."

Hank emptied the beer can. "Yeah, he never won a championship though."

"Is that all that matters in sports?" asked Connor.

Hank chuckled. "Only the winners count. Nobody remembers the losers."

"You remember him."

Hank gave him a surprised look. "I do, you got me there."

They watched the game, Hank glanced from time to time at Connor. The android was apparently focused on the game. He seemed so eager at everything he did.

Hank took emptied the beer can and put it on the coffee table. He had been different in the school. There had been no trace of the naïve college boy he sometimes appeared to be. And the way he had killed the attackers … cold deadly precision.

He wiped over his face, feeling tired. Connor was a machine, of fucking course he was ruthlessly efficient. But then why was he here? Sitting next to an old drunk watching an ancient game.

Hank pressed his lips together. Stupid question … he was here because he had asked him to bring him home. Because he hadn't given him the chance to leave.

Christ, Jean had been right. He was lonely. It felt good having somebody to talk to … someone who listened to him. Somebody who didn't judge him.

He looked at the empty beer cans on the table. Not that he could blame Gavin. He had let his partner down …

"Do you know why Gavin hates me?" he abruptly asked.

"He requested a new partner after a double homicide two years ago. I assume you had a falling out?"

Hank's joints cracked when he got up and stretched. "Something like that." He went to the fridge and grabbed a plate with left-overs. "There was a racist nut-job targeting people of colour. We got a tip where the scumbag was hiding, we had to move fast and so we went in – just the two of us in this huge apartment block."

Hank put the food in the micro-wave and licked his lips before continuing. "Finally found her trying to get out a window. Gavin grabs her and pulls her back into the room; she falls, manages to get up on her feet and draws a gun."

Hank wipes over his mouth. "Gavin freezes, just lays there staring at me. I stand at the entrance weapon already drawn, and I shoot. She's only three feet away and I miss, I fucking miss and she shots Gavin in the gut."

He stares at the food in the micro-wave turning; the humming had a strangely calming quality. "I miss a second time and the third finally hits its target. She's dead the moment he hits the floor. Gavin's screams still haunt my nightmares. Have you any idea how much pain a gut shot causes?"

"This was not in the report," said Connor. Hank could hear his footsteps closing in on him.

"I was drunk. Fowler convinced Gavin not to write it in his report. Detroit PD hasn't exactly a stellar reputation – imagine what the press would do if they learned that they put a drunk in charge of a hate crime."

The micro-wave pinged and Hank took the plate out. "Fowler thought that time would straighten me out, that giving me something to do would … would sober me up. After that they moved me in the android department. Without a partner of course, everybody at the precinct knew what really had happened."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Hank," said Connor.

Hank whipped his head around and blinked. Connor stood next to the kitchen table, he still looked a little strange without his jacket. He sounded sincere. Hank felt his throat tighten.

"Don't be," he said in a low voice. "It was my fault."

"I'm certain that you will recover your reputation and get a partner again."

Hank gulped. "That's not what I meant." He wanted to add 'I've already got a partner' but he couldn't say it. Instead he stared at the overcooked ravioli on his plate.

After a few moments he sat down. "I should eat while it's still hot."

Sumo took this a cue to show up in the kitchen, panting and whimpering.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. We will go for a walk as soon as I've finished," said Hank.

Connor put his hand slowly on Sumo's back and started to pet it with care. Sumo started wagging his tail and craned his neck to lick Connor's hand. Startled he pulled his hand back.

"It's alright, that means he likes you."

Connor looked from Hank to Sumo. He held his hand out and the dog slobbered over it. Connor stared at him wide-eyed, then he started to smile. He resembled a child at Christmas morning, full of wonder and joy. He ran his left hand through Sumo's thick fur.

"I think I like dogs. If you want I can again go for a walk with him."

Hank shoved the last bite of ravioli in his mouth and chewed. "Well, if you want to I don't mind."

Connor went to the dresser and took Sumo's leash. The dog barked and wagged his tail even harder. Hank leaned back and watched how Connor put the leash on.

-0-

After they had left Hank started to clean the kitchen and the living room, putting dished in the dishwasher and throwing the empty cans away. Then he noticed the food stains around Sumo's bowl. With a sigh he got a hair tie, pulled his hair together to a ponytail and went to the closet and pulled the vacuum cleaner and the mob out.

When he had finished mopping up he tried to remember when he had last done that. It seemed to have been ages. After he had even thrown away the old unread newspapers that had been piling on the counter he put his hands on his hips and took a look around. It was almost as if he could breathe better.

He went into the bathroom and started to clean out the cabinet, throwing away old half-empty after-shave bottles. Just when he thought about cleaning the shower he heard how Connor and Sumo returned.

He heard clothes rustling and moments later Connor appeared in the doorframe, he wasn't wearing his jacket, his tie was hanging loosely from his neck.

"We're back."

"So I noticed," said Hank and wiped his hands on his pants. "I thought I should clean up this dump a little."

Connor's LED turned yellow and then blue again. "Do you want me to help?"

"Nah, I got this. It's my mess … you just go watch some TV or whatever."

"Alright." Connor turned and left.

Hank eyed the shower again and grabbed a sponge. About an hour later he had finished cleaning the bathroom and his bedroom. He felt pleasantly tired when he returned to the living room. Sumo was snoring next to the couch table, while Connor was watching a documentary about animals.

"Didn't know you were interested in animals," said Hank and sat down with a grunt.

"I wasn't, but you said that Sumo liked me. I downloaded several works to fill the gaps in my data banks."

Hank yawned. "I'm beat. I'll go to bed." He patted Connors knee. "You can stay if you like of course."

"Thank you."

Hank shuffled back into the bathroom and started to brush his teeth. His sigh fell on his reflection in the mirror. Somehow he looked better than usual … was it the pulled back hair? Or perhaps he was feeling good because he had actually done some cleaning?

He spit out. Whatever.

-0-

When his smartphone beeped in the morning Hank sleepily deactivated it and sat up. He dimly remembered that he had dreamed about the shooting from the day before, but he couldn't recall what the dream was about … yes, Cole had been at the school and Connor had saved him.

He shuffled into the bathroom for a shower. Well, it made sense that he dreamed about stuff like this … the children in the Elementary school had been around six years old … just like Cole when he …

He stepped into the shower and noticed with satisfaction how clean it was. He remembered what Fowler had said. Androids couldn't be heroes. Fuck that. He would submit the report telling the truth.

He stepped out of the shower, tied his hair to a pony tail and dressed himself before heading in the kitchen. Connor and Sumo were nowhere to be seen – probably they had gone on a walk.

He had just grabbed a mug to make some coffee when the doorbell rang. He glanced at the clock, it was 08:04 a.m. Was it a delivery android?

When he opened the door he was surprised to see Jean standing in front of him. She gave him a surprised smile. "Morning Hank, that was quick."

He frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged. "I assumed you were still in bed, that's all. It's Saturday after all."

He felt himself blush, he had forgotten that it was his free weekend. "Uh, well, I'm up. Come on in."

He went back in the kitchen and grabbed a second mug from the cupboard. "Coffee?"

Jean zipped her green parka open and sat down at the kitchen table. "That would be great." She pulled her gloves and her woollen cap off.

He turned to activate the coffee machine. Then he put the two mugs on the table and sat down.

Jean took a sip of coffee. "Ah, this hits the spot."

He noticed how she looked around, no doubt registering the lack of garbage lying around.

"You know, Hank, if I'm completely honest I'm here for two reasons."

"Yeah?"

"After our visit on the graveyard I kept thinking about the boxes in your garage. I really think we should go through them. I would like to have some of Cole's things with me. And perhaps it's cathartic for both of us."

Hank nodded. He felt uneasy at the prospect of going through Cole's stuff. But of course she was right.

"The second reason was that I wanted to see how you're doing."

"Satisfied?"

"Don't be like that. You know that I care about you."

"But not enough to stay."

"We were both grieving. You were spiralling out of control." She sighed. "But if you're going to bring that up again I'll leave. I'm not in the mood for old arguments."

Hank grimaced. "I'm just grumpy."

"You don't say. Anyway, you look better than the last time I was here. The house too. I'm glad that you're doing better."

He shrugged. "I figured I should clean the mess."

She took a look around. "It is awfully quiet. Where is Sumo?"

"My partner took a liking to him and went for a walk with him," admitted Hank after a moment of hesitation.

Jean smiled. "I see."

He scoffed, typical Jean – always jumping to conclusions. "I know what you think. But it's not like that. We had a case yesterday – long story short: he stayed overnight because it would've been a drag to get back."

"Oh, he's a guy."

Hank chewed on his bottom lip. "But I have to admit … Connor made me realise what kind of dump I lived in. He's such an eager over-archiver … had to do something to keep up."

"Sounds like he's one of these young officers ready to change the world. Must be tiring for an old misanthrope like you." Jean drank another gulp of coffee and got up to put the mug away.

"You have no idea." Hank glanced at the display of his smart phone. He suspected that Connor would be back any minute. He shifted on his chair. "Listen, can we do the boxes another day?"

"Sure, just text me if you have time." Jean went to the entrance and zipped her parka up. "Chris meant it when he invited you for Christmas."

"I know."

She put her cap on. "Just saying – well, I'm off. See you."

"Bye."

Jean opened the door and stepped into the snow. As soon as the door had closed behind her he got up from the table and watched her walk away from the kitchen window.

Fuck. He just should've told her that his partner was an android. She would find out eventually. But he knew Jean, knew the look of pity in her eyes – and he couldn't stand it. Despite everything she still was the person who knew him best, and he still liked … respected her in his own way.

Minutes later he saw Connor and Sumo marching through the snow. The old dog was clearly tired and trudged behind Connor who seemed as energetic as always. Were all androids so perky? And did all androids like to go for a walk with a dog? Probably, they were all running on programs. Strange that they were programming stuff like that into them.


	10. The Update

November turned into December, Hank and Connor worked more deviant cases – it seemed almost as if more androids went haywire as closer as they got to Christmas.

"Got a theory why the android related crimes go up during the holidays?" asked Tina.

Hank shrugged and took a gulp of coffee, they were in the break room at the precinct. "Christmas drives people crazy – and they take it out on androids."

She raised an eyebrow. "Listen to you. One could almost think that you're on their side."

"I'm on nobody's side. But you should see how some of them treat the androids – no wonder that they go mad. I mean … Cyberlife build them to be emulate humans. What does the abuse of these machines say about the people owning them?"

She leaned back in her chair. "Perhaps, but-" she fell silent.

Hank followed her gaze to the door – Gavin stood there, eyeing them both. "Tina, would you excuse us? There is something I have to discuss with Hank."

Gavin wanted to talk to him? What in the seven hell had happened?

"Sure," said Tina and got up.

As soon as she had left, Gavin sat down on the table, leaning down to Hank.

"What do you want, Gavin?"

Gavin wiped over his mouth. "I've been watching you, Hank. You cleaned up your act – you actually get work done."

Hank waited for him to continue. Fowler had said as much, he was curious why Gavin bothered to comment on it.

"I just-" Gavin licked his lips. "I need to know." He looked pained. "Why didn't you pull yourself together when we were partners? I mean … why did you do it for a fucking android and not for me?"

Hanks blinked in surprise and for a few moments he was speechless.

"I bent backwards to help you through your loss. Covered for you countless times – because you were my partner – my friend." Gavin said in a low voice. "All I got was a shot in the gut."

"Gavin I-"

"And then this android turns up and you – you just-" he broke off.

"I'm sorry," said Hank. "I don't know, okay." He stared into his coffee mug. "Perhaps I needed to hit rock bottom … perhaps I needed five fucking years to get a grip."

He looked up, Gavin looked defeated. "Fuck you, Hank." He sounded tired.

"You know what – you're right. I'm an asshole. I let you down … and I know that words alone are meaningless but … I'm sorry."

Gavin's scoffed. "You don't know …" He wiped across his face with both his hands. "You don't know … but do you at least know that your Pinocchio isn't a real boy?"

Hank felt how the blood drained from his face. "What the fuck did you say?"

Gavin stood up, he chewed on his lips and shifted his weight from one leg to another. It seemed he had realised that he had gone too far.

"What the fuck did you say?" repeated Hank, clenching his hands to fists.

"I didn't mean it like that," said Gavin uncharacteristically guarded.

Hank jumped up and grabbed Gavin by his lapels. "You fucking insinuated that I would try to replace Cole!" He could feel tears sting in his eyes. "How dare you?"

Gavin lifted his hands. "It was just a stupid pun. I know that you would never-"

He let go of him and pushed his away. "Shut up!"

Hank walked out of the break room, bristling with anger. Fucking asshole! Motherfucking asshole! He returned to his desk, his fists clenched so hard that his knuckles turned white. He didn't look at Connor who sat across from him and stared instead into the screen without seeing anything on it. Stupid mongrel! Jerk! He forced himself to calm down and took a deep breath.

He wasn't worth it. Gavin wasn't worth it. He inhaled and exhaled a few times until the white hot anger had tickled away and only a quiet grudge remained.

"Hank? Are you alright?"

He jerked his head up and saw Connor leaning over so he could see past the computer screens.

"I just realised once more that Gavin is a miserable son of a bitch." He gulped. "Nothing to worry about."

"Do you want me to hack his computer terminal and install malware?"

Hank laughed. "I'll consider it."

Connor flashed a smile and refocused on his work. Hank's gaze lingered on him. Not a real boy, huh? Fuck you, Gavin.

-0-

A few days they were called to a crime scene – two androids had killed their owner, no other than the famous Elija Kamski. When they arrived a full SWAT team was standing outside Kamskis artsy mansion.

"Morning Captain, a little much, isn't it?" Hank said gesturing towards the men and women in dark combat gear carrying assault rifles.

"Lieutenant Anderson," he glanced briefly at Connor, "and this must be the prototype I heard so much about."

"Good Morning Captain," said Connor.

"Kamski has a house full of androids. We can't be too careful. As far as we know there were only two deviants but what if there were more of them?"

Hank crossed his arms. "What happened? All we know is that Kamski called 911 and said something about an android attacking him."

"Found him just outside his house, multiple stab wounds. There were two androids that were smeared with blood."

"Let us establish what happened," said Hank, "perhaps we can rule out if there were more than two attackers."

"Knock yourselves out, I-"

"A deviant!" yelled Connor.

Hank had just about enough time to turn his head, seeing how a young blonde woman stood over a fallen SWAT member lifting an assault rifle towards the cops in front of the house. Hank reached for his gun, but he already knew that he would be too late – from the corner of his eye saw a movement. Connor brushed past Hank, a gun drawn.

The several shots rang out at the same time. There was a moment of ear deafening silence before people started to yell. Hank realised that he held his gun in his hand and took a step forward, past the SWAT Captain who stared incredulously at his own empty holster.

Connor had taken his weapon and shot the deviant android in the head, it had only managed to fire a round before it had collapsed. Absolutely amazing! Hank patted Connor's shoulder. "That was incredible!"

Connor didn't move. Hank frowned and walked around him. He felt himself blanch when he saw that Connor had been hit in his right cheek, his jaw and throat. Parts of his face were shattered, exposing the white plastic underneath. Blue blood was slowly tickling out of his wounds, a thin runnel came out of his half open mouth. Small drops were falling on the snow before him.

"Connor?" Hank asked in a toneless voice.

The brown eyes were staring past Hank, the LED was grey. The wind was playing with his hair as he stood completely still.

"It's broken. No wonder, took three hits," said the captain next to him. "But we were lucky that it was here – saved a lot of lives that one."

Hank felt like the time had stopped. He just stared at Connor … it couldn't be. Not Connor too. "Fuck," he mumbled, feeling strangely numb. This wasn't happening, it had to be some bad dream.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. He blinked turned to face the captain.

"You really liked it- him, huh? Don't worry, Cyberlife can download its programme into a new body."

"What? What did you say?"

"Saw it with some of the uniformed androids, one day they were broken the next day they showed up to work."

Hank gulped and made an effort to pull himself together. Calm down, they can fix Connor. They can fix him. This is different … they can fix him. "Alright, I guess I have to call Cyberlife."

About half an hour later a Cyberlife truck showed up and collected the broken androids. Hank had to turn away when they came to take Connor.

-0-

The evening and the next morning felt like a nightmare, he ate and went with Sumo on a walk, but it felt off. Everything seemed bleak. Hank sniffled when he entered the precinct. Perhaps he should call Cyberlife and ask them about the progress- he froze when he saw Connor standing next to his desk, hands clasped behind his back.

Hank laughed and briskly walked up to him. He nudged him.

"Thank god that you're okay! You stupid piece of plastic!"

Connor looked at Hank, not a muscle moved in his face. "I'm Connor, I'm the android sent by Cyberlife." His voice was different, much deeper than before.

Hank's smile faltered. "What happened to your voice?"

"As per your complaint Cyberlife has changed the voice of the Connor prototype." He smiled, but it was off – it was too perfect, artificial. It wasn't Connor's dorky grin.

"My complaint? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You said that the previous Connor had a 'stupid voice' and a 'goofy face'. Cyberlife didn't have the time to remodel the chassis but they could change the voice on short notice."

"What- what else did they change?" asked Hank. His knees felt weak, he had to sit down on his chair.

"Cyberlife updated the heuristic programme and the mission priorities."

Hank clenched his fist. "There was nothing wrong with the mission priorities or the heuristic thing!"

"Cyberlife reviewed the subroutines written by the heuristic programme and discovered that the previous model had written a subroutine for dog care – quite unnecessary of course for its mission."

"You're not Connor," whispered Hank.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Lieutenant."

"Cancel the updates."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Lieutenant."

Hank slammed his hand on the table. "Call Cyberlife and tell them that I want my partner back, tell them to cancel the fucking updates or I will tell the media that their prototype is shit. Tell them that I'll make sure that this project end in a PR nightmare!"

The LED turned yellow for a few moments. "I'll follow your order, Lieutenant."

The android froze, the LED switched between red and yellow until it turned blue again. Hank paced back and forth, glancing occasionally at Connor. He ran his hand through his pulled back hair.

Suddenly the android blinked and directed its gaze towards Hank. "Lieutenant, good to see you," he said with his real voice. Connor gave him a genuine smile.

Hank sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "You gave me quite a scare, you dork," he said with a brittle voice.

Connor tilted his head. "I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you."

Hank could feel tears sting in his eyes. He took a step forward and pulled Connor into a tight hug. "I thought I had lost you," he whispered. He didn't care that the other cops were staring at him. Fuck them all.

After a short moment of hesitation Connor returned the hug.

After a few moments Hank let go and blinked the tears away. "Um, let's just get back to work."

Connor nodded eagerly. "Of course, Lieutenant."

Hank cleared his voice and took a look around; some of his colleagues were staring at him. He glared until they looked away. All but one. Gavin stood in the hallway and looked strangely lost.

Fuck you, thought Hank and hope it translated in his icy stare. After a few seconds Gavin turned on his heel and left.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" asked Connor.

Hank gave a nod.

"Why do you want to keep this version of me? You complained about me in the past-"

"Because I suck at being a decent human being." Connor opened his mouth, but Hank lifted his left hand. "Just- just let me finish. I was miserable the past years … really miserable." He stared at his desk, unable to hold Connors gaze. "I can't deal with emotional stuff. Not really. I _wanted_ to be miserable because it made sense. Then you showed up, and things got better, you know. I guess I just wanted to feel good."

"I-"

"And I don't want to talk about it because- because I know that you're programmed to work with me." He scoffed. "And I'm pathetic enough that I don't care. So you don't have to tell me- I mean- well, you don't have to pretend even if your programming says so."

He glanced at Connor; he was looking at him. No doubt trying to determine how to react to his stupid blabbering. Fuck, he should have kept his trap shut.

"I like you too, Hank."

Hank's eyes went wide. Connor looked at him in earnest. Hank felt warmth spread in his chest. He cleared his throat. "Uh, do you have the address for the next witness? We should get going."

"Of course, Lieutenant."


	11. The Present

'Are you coming or not?'

Hank stared at Jean's text message. Again. It was already the 20th of December. She had written a day ago. He really should write her back. He exhaled and got up from the kitchen table. The water was boiling – finally. He threw the pasta in and stirred the tomato sauce.

The front door opened and Sumo barged into the house, heading straight to his bowl. Hank chuckled. "Well, it seems I'm not the only one who is hungry."

Connor closed the door and wiped the snow off his clothes. "He tried to case a cat, but it was too fast for him."

"Ah yes, sometimes he forgets that he's a little too old for that shit."

"What are you doing?" Connor entered the kitchen and craned his neck to look into the pots.

"I'm trying something new. This canned food is getting old. I mean … how hard can it be to make a decent sauce?"

In this moment the smart phone vibrated. Hank checked it – it was of course Jean. Why hadn't he just written her back? Crap.

'You dead?'

'Not more than usual.'

'And the rigor mortis prevented you from texting me back?'

'That's it, had to wait until I could move my fingers again.'

'Well, are you coming or not?'

Hank hesitated. He actually wanted to go … on the other hand he wasn't sure if it wouldn't be awkward. He looked up and saw Connor carefully stir in the pot, his mouth was a little open – he looked fascinated. Hank couldn't supress a smile.

His phone vibrated again and caused him to look at the screen.

'Listen, I know we're not good at this stuff. But perhaps it would good for both of us? You can even bring that miraculous partner of yours if you want.'

Bring Connor? He bit his lips.

After a moment of hesitation he wrote: 'I'll ask him.'

He put the phone on the table and wiped across his face. He couldn't possibly invite an android to Christmas dinner, could he? On the other hand even that would never surpass Christmas 2029 with his parents.

He glanced again at Connor. Why was he even considering it? And why on earth hadn't he just written Jean that his partner was otherwise engaged? Hank realised that he actually wanted to invite Connor … fucking hell.

It was impossible of course.

He picked the phone back up

'He can't and neither can I.'

'Okay.'

Hank gulped. He wasn't proud of himself.

'Do you have time to go over the boxes today? I'm heading into town now and could come by in an hour or so.'

Crap. There was that too. Well, perhaps it was better to get it over with. 'Okay.'

'Great. See you.'

"How is the sauce?" asked Hank. His voice sounded throaty.

"Its consistency suggests that it is ready," Connor lifted the wooden spoon and used his index finger to touch the red sauce. He put the finger in his mouth. "I'll register the composition – here does it taste good?" He handed Hank the spoon. "If it does I'll have a sample of good food!"

How was it possible that his machine was so eager? Hank felt an iron grip around his heart. He licked he spoon.

"It's decent, but not particularly good."

Hank put the spoon back into the pot with the sauce, grabbed the pot with the pasta and dumped it into a colander. He fixed himself a plate of food and sat down at the kitchen table. Connor filled up Sumo's dry food bowl. He realised that the TV wasn't on – it was strangely quiet.

The silence didn't bother him. It felt comfortable.

His thoughts returned to Jean. Why hadn't he just said that his partner was an android? He had countless chances to just tell her – and what's easier than write a text?

He shoved a forkful of pasta in his mouth. Somehow he didn't want Jean to know. Perhaps Gavin had been right after all – he had cleaned up his act because of Connor.

But why? Why had he done for an android what he couldn't do for his partner and his wife, heck or any other friend he had?

Connor sat down next to Hank and started to read a book. Why he still read physical paperbacks than just downloading the texts was beyond Hank … but like with everything else he did there was enthusiasm and wonder.

Perhaps- perhaps it was this quality that had gotten to Hank? Hank ate the last of the pasta. For all his posturing about real people and the real world he was nothing but an old, joyless cynic. Jean had a favourite saying from some writer: A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything, and the value of nothing.

They had both liked the quote. It had suited them back in the day. But now … Hank wasn't so sure anymore.

"There is this quote: A cynic is a man who knows the price of everything, and the value of nothing. Do you know who's from?"

Connor nodded eagerly. "Oscar Wilde, he wrote the play 'Lady Windemere's Fan' it was-"

Hank laughed. "Thank you, I was just wondering about the writer. It's something my ex used to say."

He cleared his throat. "Speaking of her … she is coming over. We want to check the boxes in my garage."

"Do you want me to leave?"

The question startled Hank. "No, no … I'm not kicking you out. I just thought I should mention it." He stared on the empty plate in front of him. "In these boxes are the clothes and the toys of my son."

"Is this him?" asked Connor.

Hank looked up, Connor was hold Cole's picture in his hands.

"Yes," he got up and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He opened the can and sat down. "His name was Cole, but I guess you already know that from my file."

"The book I found was his, wasn't it?"

Hank took a gulp. "It was. You know, even after all these years …" he stopped talking. His throat felt tight. "It was a long time ago. Jean is coming over because she wants to get some of his things."

"In the file it says that it was an android surgeon that failed to save Cole's life after the car accident."

Hank scoffed. "And now you're wondering if that was the reason for my droid-antipathy? What the report doesn't say is that the surgeon who was supposed to be on duty was too full of Red Ice to operate." He licked his lips. "That's the world we live in … a world where people have to find comfort with a fistful of powder." His sight fell on the beer can in his hand. "Or something else."

"I'm sorry for you loss, Hank."

Hank gulped the rest of the beer down quickly. He checked the time on his smartphone. Jean would soon arrive. He had thought that he could just let it happen, let Jean see who is partner was without having to explain anything.

But he knew that he couldn't take it, going through the boxes would be difficult enough. Damn. He blinked and said in a hoarse voice: "Would you mind going on a walk with Sumo?"

"Of course not," said Connor and almost jumped on his feet.

Hank watched Connor and Sumo from the kitchen window. Heavy snowfall had once again set in. They soon walked out of his sight. Hank exhaled. He would tell Jean, just not today.

-0-

Minutes later the doorbell rang.

"Hi," said Jean. She was still wearing her green parka and her woollen cap.

"Hi Jean, come in. We can drink a cup of coffee before we go in the garage – it's not exactly warm in there."

She stepped inside and Hank felt slightly nervous.

"Good idea, I worked last night and I'm half sleep-walking." She shed her parka and her boots and took a few steps inside.

He went into the kitchen and poured two cups of coffee.

Jean took a sip of coffee. "That pony tail looks good on you, Hank."

"Yeah, I figured that I looked less like a hobo that way."

"Indeed." She sighed. "Let's go into the garage. Knowing us it's going to take forever anyway. We can take the coffee with us."

He frowned. "Okay."

They put their jackets on and headed towards the garage. Jean remained silent until the garage door was shut behind them.

"Where is Sumo by the way?"

Hank drank some coffee. "He's with my partner."

"Again? He really loves that dog, doesn't he?"

He sighed. "Let's just start, okay."

Hank put his mug on the floor, grabbed the first box and used a cardboard cutter to open it. Jean took a deep breath and joined him.

They both worked silently, showing each other occasionally something they found – Mr. Carrot, Cole's first shoes and other things of sentimental value. Hank hand to sniff a few times but he managed to hide it rather well he thought.

"Hank? I think these are your things," said Jean and handed him a rather small box.

He opened it and saw that it was his old parade uniform, there were also some old certificates from the police academy in it. In a small case was a single coin. "Will you look at that – it's my lucky coin from my first year on the force."

Jean folded one of Cole's T-shirts and put in into a box. "I always thought you were still carrying that around with you."

Hank stared at the dollar coin. He had forgotten about it. He put it back in the case and shoved it into his coat pocket.

Jean put the second box with Cole's clothes into the trunk of her car. "I think that's all I need," she said. "You can keep what you want and- well, it's time that you had a garage to put your car in."

Hank nodded. "Perhaps you're right."

She rubbed her hands together in an attempt to warm them up. "It's a pity that you can't come to the dinner."

He hadn't expected her to bring that up again. "Um, well …"

She smiled. "It's alright. It would've been awkward I guess. But of course not as bad as Christmas 2029 with your parents."

He chuckled. "That was one for the history books, eh?"

She opened the car door. "Well, I'm off then."

"Bye."

He watched her drive away. What a woman. No bullshit and though as nails. A pity that he had screwed up … Chris was a lucky man.

He put his hands into his pockets and inhaled the cold air. His fingers touched the case with the coin in it.

-0-

The precincts Christmas feast on the 24th December consisted of a lukewarm alcohol-free punch in the break room and a boring speech from Fowler. Hank and Tina stood in a corner eating a dry cake.

"We'll go in a bar later," said Tina in quiet voice as Fowler droned on. "Do you want to come along?"

Hank laughed dryly. "Thanks, I appreciate it. But I'll just head home."

Tina had the sense not to ask if he had some family gathering. Hank clapped politely when Fowler had ended his speech, put the mug with the punch on the table and made his way through the room, brushing gently his colleagues away.

When he arrived at his desk, Connor looked up from his screen, pulling his hand away. Hank watched as the artificial skin returned to the white hand. He had noticed that Connor refrained from connecting himself directly with the computer when he was around.

He licked his lips. "You don't have to do that, you know. I don't mind that you use your hand instead of the keyboard."

Connor hesitated shortly before his hand turned white again. "Well, if you don't mind." He touched the screen. It turned black and lines of code appeared in quick succession.

"How was the party?" asked Connor.

He shrugged. "Boring as always. Nothing special."

Connor seemed a little disappointed. "I see. Are you going to another Christmas party?"

Hank grabbed his coat. "Well, I'm heading to Jimmy's bar for a drink."

Connor let go of his screen, blinking. There was a twitch in the corner of his mouth. If Hank didn't know better he would've thought that he was … cheerless. But androids did have emotions, right? "Alright." He touched the screen; the code lines appeared once again. "Good night, Hank."

He looked alone. Why was he looking lonely? And why had he even asked about the party? Hank felt his chest tightening. Because nobody had invited him. Androids weren't invited of course … just as they weren't allowed in Jimmy's bar.

Connor had been invited to a Christmas dinner and Hank had denied him that. Fuck. Who cares if androids aren't supposed to have feelings – perhaps Connor was different because of his heuristic programme? "You know what? I changed my mind." He tried to sound casually. "Let's go somewhere else. It's too crowded in the bar anyway."

Connor blinked, after a moment a smile spread out on his face. "You changed your mind?"

"Yeah, we worked enough for today, partner."

-0-

Hank pulled the car up and killed the engine. "Here we are."

"New Center Park? I thought you wanted to go to a bar?" said Connor and looked around on the dimly lit car park.

"Nope. Come on, I think we're already late."

Hank exited the car and put his woollen cap and his gloves on. Connor joined him, only wearing his usual android uniform.

"You sure that you're not cold?" asked Hank with a frown.

"I'm fine."

Hank grunted and started to walk towards the entrance of the park. It was snowing lightly. In the distance he could see lights and hear quiet music of the annual public Christmas concert. It had been years since he had last been here.

Hank glanced from time to time at Connor. He was looking around, visibly fascinated from the colourful and festive shaped lights and decorations put up at the snow-covered trees. In the middle was a huge fir, decorated with golden and red Christmas baubles, ribbons and on top of it a huge star. It was all too gaudy for Hank's taste, but Connor seemed to like it: He stared at everything with wonder and curiosity.

The choir on the stage in the middle of the park had just finished singing a song Hank didn't recognize. The singers scrolled through their tablets until they had found the next song. The conductor cleared her throat. "Carol of the Bells by Mykola Dmytrovych Leontovych."

Hank nudged Connor. "Hey, listed to this – it's a popular Christmas song."

The choir started singing the carol, Hank rubbed his hands together and went to get a hot wine punch from one of the stalls, leaving Connor to listen to the music.

When he returned Connor was still attentively listening. They were now singing "Ode to Joy". Connor turned to Hank with a broad grin plastered on his face.

"I like this."

Hank chuckled. "You don't say. I thought you're a Christmas person." He nipped at the wine and grimaced, it was too sweet for his taste. But al least it was warm.

Connor had turned his attention again on the stage, his LED flashing from blue to yellow. There was a half-smile on his lips, and Hank felt content. This felt right.

He pulled his smartphone out of his pocket, activated the selfie-mode and put his arm around Connor's shoulder.

"Let's commemorate your first Christmas," he said.

Connor nodded and they both looked into the camera, it flashed and Hank patted on Connors shoulder. He checked the photo, it was actually nice. They were both smiling, Hank looked a little dorky with the paper cup in his hand. Connor smiled his genuine smile … his LED was clearly visible.

He took a deep breath and sent the photo to Jean.

'Merry Christmas from Connor and Hank,' he wrote before he put the phone back in his pocket.

It wasn't exactly a smooth way to tell Jean who his partner was, but then he wasn't smooth – just a grumpy old crank.

He hesitated for a moment before he reached again into his pocket, fingering the case in it. He had thought about it countless times. He took another gulp of hot wine. It was silly.

Fuck it, he might as well just do it. He grabbed the case and closed his fist around it.

He cleared his voice. "Well, there is only one thing missing now."

Connor's eyes went wide. "What is it?"

Hank handed Connor the case. "A Christmas present." He shrugged. "It's just a little something." He back to the choir, feeling heat crawling up his cheeks.

"I don't have a present for you, Hank. I'm sorry."

Hank set his sights again on Connor and gave him a dry laugh. "There is no need. This is your Christmas party, partner."

Connor opened the case and held the coin up.

"Uh, it's- it's my lucky coin. I used it to carry it around when I was rookie. Thought that you could use it, seeing as you're the rookie now," said Hank.

"Thank you, Hank." Connor gazed fascinated at the coin, he weighted it on his wand, then he flipped it up and caught it with an incredibly smooth and fast movement.

"Just don't lose it."

Connor flipped the coin from one hand to another, catching it between his fingers. "I won't."

Hank smiled and looked again around. It was actually nice. People seemed to be happy, the lights were bright and cheerful. It felt good, he felt good. It had been too long.


End file.
